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The Fishing Village From Across The Bay

The quiet solitude
of brown fishing boats,
anchors weighed,
riding gently, the soft
movement of the calm waters.

Silent slapping. As the waves
kiss the sides of the boats,
their masts tall and strung
with spiderweb riggings.
Loose canvas flaps idly with
the passing of a breeze,
tugging against the anchor.

Tiredly, the sun continues
its slow journey home, reaching
honey-gold fingers of warmth
through the blanket of clouds.
The orb of power-filled
light-giving energy gives one last
defiant flash as it breaks momentarily
through the clouds.

A dog barks from across the bay
and white puffs of smoke
rise slowly, lazily to meet
the clouds. The sleepy village
readies itself for the sleep
that will bring the new day,
and the sun, rested
from its duties of the day before.

The waves continue to lap
gently against the fishing boats,
Silhouetted gently against the
golden stretch of water from across the bay.

Silence sets in and prayers are
said before bed, and good night
kisses are exchanged and
then the lights are extinguished,
from across the bay.

poem by Kevin Parkin
Added by Poetry Lover
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