by Clarence Lamberth

Created on: August 11, 2008   Last Updated: August 25, 2008

A Fisherman's Lament

Now bracing here against the roll upon,
Worn and aching legs no longer young,
Eyes squinting into the newly risen sun,
Tasting sea's salt tang upon my tongue,
While the gulls' ancient songs are sung.

Her good diesel heart rumbles beneath,
A reassuring, mind soothing bequeath,
Thrumming through my hands and feet,
And hauling gear as the dawn we greet,

Urging me on with its slow insistent beat.

As I, she's old, her better days long past,
Her beauty's faded but she's built to last,
From sturdy cypress planking to iron masts,
Stolidly enduring waves and stormy blasts,
From murky inlet's mouth to blue ocean vast!

Sharp pain straightens me stilling my hands,
Forcing mind to cruel thoughts of frailty and,
How very soon I must in sad impotence stand,
To gaze in feeble grief at my old vessel grand,
Forlorn, forsaken and rotting on the strand.

"You fool!" Cry the gulls, "Rouse! Awake!
Musing's for fools! The day ye must take,
Savor good work, your health will soon break,
Time and the sea rolls on, unlike life so make,
Good of what is left for your memories' sake!"

Bending once more to tasks at hand I smile,
"True enough." I say, "I'll savor for a while,
My old boat and labor in the fisherman's style,
GOD in his wisdom fashioned me, so why rile?
For His plan I can't measure, and won't revile.

This old boat and me will just make the best,
Of life's shortening to twilight's eternal rest,
In truth, years on the backside of life's crest,
Haven't been so bad; much was good I attest,
O' GOD, let me fish 'til death stills my breast!"

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