Early morning
with the precision of birds
the fishermen go out,
slickered and keen-eyed,
hands on the rudder
of the rest of their lives.
Every day, kings
and drama queens get
pulled from their kingdoms,
gasp against fiberglass,
get bonked on the head,
don’t know what hit them.
Early evening, the beaten
and the just plain beat
line up on the long dock
until the last rod-wrestler
weighs in with his picture
perfect catch,
hanging from
that stainless steel hook
a stilled, still shining body
whose open eyes stare back
from a height never imagined.
Sweet Jesus, Jack!
Another poem from my chapbook “Irresistible”, available from Finishing Line Press
or Amazon.com or Amazon.ca . The photo above is of the original lodge there. It is now
the site of an ecological observatory and marine field research. You can read more
about its new purpose here
Lynne Burnett 
“a stilled, still shining body”
Sweet!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Ken!
LikeLiked by 1 person