Natures Pantry Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The tanker's gone, the waves roll high,
My little boat climbs to the sky.
Then down we slide, a gentle dip,
Before the next wave's watery whip.

My oars hang low, the cod lie still,
Five, maybe six, my chilly fill.
I clean them quick, and toss the waste,
To waiting beaks, in hungry haste.

Small gulls flutter, a noisy flock,
Larger ones with backs of black rock.
They gobble down what I discard,
A feast for them, a hard-won reward.

The sun feels good, the air is sweet,
Time to row home, for dinner to eat.
Fresh from the sea, a tasty prize,
Nature's pantry, before my eyes.


T.M.Solvang