I came before the water

Up from a thatched cottage, the sun
Purples the horizon.
Halfway down to a sea, dressed in gray,
Casting nets drying, yearning
For a fish —
Today may there be a harvest coffined
In silvery jackets.

As I wade into the sea-mouth,
The salt air
Thin and sluggish trickles down my face;
Waves eyeing me
Move obliquely with a wet.

My fingers work the baited nets,
As I could, between
The glittery wisps of wind, cast them over
A dawning tide.
Bellies of schooling fish struggle, puzzled
By their passage to a demise.

Fattened a pot, a smokehouse; I, a net-mender,
Sit by a cottage
White as sea-salt — is there anyone who dies,
Or is born without
Their knowing it? Inched from our mother’s womb,
Swollen to a life,
Then wear the death mask once your tasks are complete.

I can still smell the salt air, feel the waves pulsing
Like hearts;
See the blunt, sleek coastline hills — rivers
Feeding the sea,
The clumping of tidal pools where mussels beach;
Hear waves lapping
On a shore; all while mending my nets and sipping
Life before the water.

Copyright © 02/06/18 lance sheridan®

I came before the water

8 comments on “I came before the water

  1. Barbara says:

    Lance every writing I say, “Can he write one any better than this one;” and, yes you do another and another. The images in this is totally overwhelming to draw any reader in to enjoy every fantastic image contained therein. Lance this is remarkable and I cannot believe the beauty in your writings; they’re simply great!! Ace!!

    • Barbara, my most sincere gratitude and appreciation for your thoughts, comments and reviews of my poetry. It means a great deal to me! My love for writing poetry would never allow me to bask in success however, for if I did, it would cast an ugly shadow. Peace and light.

  2. Dying, or being born, without knowing it. The truth is indeed humbling. And this awareness dawning at the moment of a ordinary chore……too lovely for words.

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