Mending The Nets Poem by David Wood

An orange sun blinked and yawned
Ending nights cold darkness and
Slowly started to rise in the East.
As darkness fled the shapes of
Plastic Coke bottles, crisp packets
And fast food wrappers of the previous
Evening floated down the river towards
The harbour entrance and open sea.

Wispy smoke from riverside cottages
Started to climb as breakfast beckoned
Sleepy households. Distant lights from a
Homecoming trawler approached from
The sea as an early mist began to clear.
The rigging from yachts in the marina
With flags of identity whistled as the
Wind began to waken with a soft breeze.

A group of four men sat on the harbour
Wall dressed in well worn dark jumpers
With heads covered in equally worn wooly
Hats. They sat crosslegged on discarded
Wood pallets and were mending their nets
With skills handed down to them from their
Forefathers. Joking about an imagined love
Life or what happened in the pub last night.

They hope for a safe passage and a safe
Return for the sake of their families, they
Hope for kind weather and above all, plenty
Of fish in the nets they are now mending.