He ploughs the surface of the fertile sea,
lays nets and traps, pays out the line,
weaves his wide web beneath the glittering waves,
circles methodically.
I, perched below the corrugated cliff,
follow with my lens – his mundane chore
my glib imagery; dark silhouette
against the luminosity.
And as I catch his image, I'm aware
He does not care what picture
his lone boat presents to me,
as he seeds the sparkling surface
of the fertile sea.
Janice Windle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/italian-collection-the-fisherman/
