Salt air licks my beard
As we ride adventure's current
Cheered on by gulls
We begin that ancient game
Our anchor holds fast
A river pushing to the sea
As the mystery unfolds
We shall see what we shall see
Waiting for a strike
Our nemisis a seal
Flaunts a captured salmon
As we ply our wicked hooks
A symphony unfolds
The ocean roars
A pelican soars
River otters splash together
Sun drying on parched faces
We smell of bait and sweat
Ready to interpose
On timeless spawning beds
Bam! ! Fish on!
A truck grabbing my line
My heart jumps out of my chest
The battle is set
My pole doubles over
And my line unreels
We release the anchor
The fighter gives tow
Did you see that? ?
The monster twists and flies
Blurred chrome and fin
An apparition from the deep
Exhausted from the fray
Our opponent pauses
But summons energy
As he sees net and club
Close to our boat
Approbations all around
Big, bright, sea lice
He's fresh from the sea!
No bird in the hand
Broken hook-Oh no! He's gone!
A tale for the future
He'll grow on and on
I loved this Ray! I've never fished in salt water but we often dream of going. That must really be fun. I loved how you describe the smell of bait and sweat...........yeah, fishing gets pretty stinky but it's a ''good stink''. I'm glad you posted this. What a treat! Sincerely, Mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liked this one! It reminds me of when I went home from Iraq to Alaska during Salmon season. Fishing in the river was awesome! Thanks Ray for this poem. Keep up the good work. Kevin