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tuesday morning laundry

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I saw him in Del Mar California, fishing. He had a "Sherlock Holmes" looking pipe in his mouth and its curvature betrayed the straightness of his pole.  Somehow, in my mind, I saw him as a righteous man.  Who else would be casting his line before four in the morning?

tuesday morning laundry . he had waded out into the waters del mar in the morning was quiet and he certainly was not on the sea of galilee . he had a pole in his hand and stood quietly still before the lapping sea ankle deep, just enough that i could see he wasn’t standing on top of the waves . the rising morning sun cast a nice reflection on the water-beaten sand and there he stood perpendicular to himself . and that’s where i saw him ridiculed in the midst of defiant waves . it had to happen soon as the rising sun folded into a colorful collage the sky told him that he had never met Jesus . then colors dipped into a flowing sky soft seafoam poured onto the sand as the fisherman stood empty handed . his untested pole pointed to heaven while perpendicular to himself he stood quietly still on the smooth sand . as the morning unfolded like laundry on a tuesday morning until, repentant, he wept . at last the golden sunset wept into the sea until darkness prevailed and the sound of breaking waves . was only silence . . © tolbert

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things