My neighbors name me 'Fisherman'
trying to feed the hunger of a town;
a body ravaged by merciless daylight
while hands allay hundred souls or more
Riding through hours, to catch food
children pray for bounty when eves break,
while nails strum guitars for a harvest
that would supply family bowls--
Like a guardian , I arrive late
dreary from roughened winds;
yet,I watch the folk under dark clouds
greeting me as the fisherman of our harbor.
What's In A Name Contest/ Silent One
Jan 18, 2017
Copyright © Noel Onat | Year Posted 2017