Fair Tide Running
By Pat G
There stands stark against the skyline spidery forms of net and post. They are seen to be abandoned but by those who miss them most. The days of weirs went sadly setting when the world discovered trawls. A piece of history was rewritten leaving out my father's trials. Once my father plumbed the ocean living life upon the waves. Face burnt red from sun reflections, colored by his fishing days, he would sit and mend the netting long into the lunar night. Tides dictated when he left us, sailing out by any light. Barging out the wooden stake posts, piled with nets that he had made. Bringing home a wicker basket filled with what the ocean gave. If you look upon the water you may see their silhouette Man and boat, full barge and dory headed out where weirs are set. I believe he's out there always placing nets and waiting when he can ride a fair tide running and return to port again. Written January 20th, 2002 © on Jan 19 2002 03:26 PM PST, Pat Grantt 0 • 10
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"There stands stark against the skyline..."