Erie's Predator Of The Eve Poem by Tim Labbe

Erie's Predator Of The Eve

Rating: 5.0

Tonight, a hazy
Shroud is draped
Over the ice-moon.

On sacred grey waters
I sit in my row boat,
Gently rocking with
Frigid restless waves.

Lighting from
Shoreline cabins
Masquerade as fires
Burning in the cold
Murkiness of dusk

Hungry, a Wolf cries.
Sundog readies, hidden
Behind twilights horizon,
Where diamond dust
Crystals await dawn
To tame the beast.

But, as of this night,
I Howl.

Thriving in the biting
Cold briskness that
Wails deep within
Winters obscurity,
Lapping swells sway
the ol' wooden Lyman.

In the dampness of
Erie's chill, my line
Livens to the sudden
Tugging-bob of prey,
Beneath muddy waters.

Wailing out heartedly,
I again Howl.

My echoes alert
The Great spirits of
The Blood moon that
Aged prowess reigns.

A Predator still lives.

Monday, January 13, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: aging,death,life and death,lifespan,night,old age ,survival,survivor
Bernard F. Asuncion 14 January 2020

An excellently expressed poem....10+++

9 0 Reply
Tim Labbe 14 January 2020

Bernard, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you thoroughly enjoyed this poem. I wrote it for my elderly father who, at almost 90 years old, has fond passionate memories of Lake Erie. He owned a wooden Lyman boat as described, and fished the lake for many years. He still retains that predator spirit, which I admire greatly. Thanks again for your kind comment.

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Jessica Lockhart 13 January 2020

Perhaps there is a predator within us all that we need to tame. Well done

8 0 Reply
Tim Labbe 14 January 2020

Regardless of age, our desire to live, and at times even conquer, does prove that indeed there is a predator within all of us. And yes, at times it does need to be tamed. While there are those times that it has to be fed in order to feel vital and alive. Thanks for you comments Jessica.

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