All Of The Sun And Most Of The Light Poem by Daniel Brick
All Of The Sun And Most Of The Light
At Lake Harriet
I can measure distance
by counting anchored boats.
There are twenty
sloshing in the spangled water
between the sun-glazed beach house
and the shore's northeast bend.
Or is the number twenty-two?
I counted lazily, resting
by myself near the crowded dock.
Numbers don't matter, I thought.
Figures matter. Like the figures
of the anchored boats and the figures
of people moving past me
in the streaming sunlight of noon.
I watch, lazy and delighted
in the heat haze of sunlight,
two fishers in a long canoe.
The fisher in a blue hat tosses
his line half a boat length into the lake,
leans back, relaxes and falls asleep.
He misses the fish, two boat lengths away,
jump out of the water
into a brief moment of light,
then plunge back into safe waters.
The other fisher,
the one in a black vest,
sits upright, silent, his back
to the crowd, his eyes on the line.
He is the ready one, ignoring
the sun, intent on his mission,
undisturbed by the sleeper nearby.
The canoe slides four boat lengths
along the shore. The fisher in the black vest,
still upright, paddles the way he fishes,
intent, speechless, prepared,
while the other fisher,
the one with the blue hat, lies
stretched out, perfectly asleep, taking in
all of the sun and most of the light.
The three poems which are the result are completely satisfying to me,
and are proof that poetry writing is a flexible, accommodating, gracious art.
The title of this piece caught my eye, and pulled me in like a mirror lure on a sunny afternoon. I love the counterplay of precision with imprecision, initiated in the count of the boats, reinforced in measurements, and reflected again in the contrast of the two fishermen. The suggestion that there is more light at play here than sunlight left me asking, What other light? . Here we have a fisherman who casts his line out and accepts his fate, and another who pursues his fate with determination of a hungry predator. Could light represent knowledge, and the first fisherman willing to accept that which comes passively, unaware that there is a greater and fuller understanding of the world that might only be obtained by purposeful, aggressive pursuit? Or has the glare of the sun off the water magnified the intensity of the effect of this beer on my brain?
This poem is a wonderful example of your eye for graphic details! I see before me Daniel lazily relaxing, sitting by the side of the crowded dock of Lake Harriet studying the'figures' of moving humans (must be of beautiful ladies!) His eyes are directed to the boats anchored across the coast, counting them, also watching the moving canoe with two fishermen, one so focussed in his mission and the other lazily sprawling in the sunlight and sleeping! The fish caught jumping back to safe waters and disappearing is a lively picture! I could even hear its sloshing! Enjoyed much!
1st time visitor to your site and this is the first poem that I've read of yours, drawn here by a compliment Rachel gave you in Forums on the quality of your comments. You indeed count boats like the fisherman in the blue hat, both of you content with all of the sun and most of the light, the absence of 'profit' no problem. Nice write! You might enjoy a similar poem of mine that also pulls the reader into it's picture called 'Yuliya's Father's Cottage.' As for me, now that that I'm in your pond, I think that I'll fish for a while!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 11:18:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
i'm not a fisherman, daniel, but i can assert most vigorously i more relate to the blue hat one. nice description here. and, once again, i'm reminded of my own poem sabbath reverie. to hamlet's to be or not to be i'd point out the pleasures on pleasures in this life, including the taking in of scenes before us when weather and leisure conspire together. nice, daniel. glen