The Fisherman
Every day, no matter the weather,
Wind, sun, cold or rain,
The fisherman would make his way
Down the dunes towards the sea.
If the tide was low, he would fish from the rocks,
Getting his bait from the rock pools first,
Then stand in the spray facing the sea
And cast his line beyond the waves.
When the tide was high, he would lie on the beach,
With his bag stuffed under his head,
And the line hooked round his finger to feel
If a fish had taken the bait.
I saw him catch a fish or three
And carry them, thread on a piece of string,
As he passed me by on his way back home
With a smile on his face and a soft greeting.
Photo: http://www.media.photobucket.com
©DGA
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29/05/2010 at 7:58 am
Lovely, beautiful picture with the words, and a really wonderful photo.
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29/05/2010 at 4:18 pm
Thank you Cin! Wish I could say I took the photo, lol. 🙂
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29/05/2010 at 10:12 am
Lovely one
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29/05/2010 at 4:19 pm
Thank you, Sidey. I’m not going to make your challenge unfortunately, as I’m all out of bandwidth. Misjudged badly this month.
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29/05/2010 at 1:01 pm
I enjoyed a visit and reading back to the start! Some really vivid word-pictures.
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29/05/2010 at 4:27 pm
Thanks for the comment, Col.
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29/05/2010 at 4:05 pm
He is obviously at peace with himself and I envy him that state of mind… Love the pic – it is beautiful.
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29/05/2010 at 4:20 pm
Oh, yes, lovely to lead a simple life and live off the earth! Thanks Lyndatjie. 😀
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