Thursday, March 12, 2009


Footprints  cast along the shore,
The path of the old man's journey,
Fading into a relentless surf.
He struggled with the nets,
His gnarled fingers fighting the rope,
An endless battle for the ancient warrior.
I wept for him as I listened to his plea
To the heavens for just a "little more time."
I called out:  "Do you need some help"?
My words were lost in a shout of salty noise.
The fisherman pulled his hat low across his brow,
A vain attempt to hide from nature's wrath.
He was at one with the fury swirling around him,
A lonely man lost in his toil, the heavy burden
Of the day weighing on his shoulders.
Finally, the hours of silent effort and his
Footprints slowly disappeared in the evening light.

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