Seat on the Jetty
The jetty sticks out in the sea,
A strand of rock, but oh so wee.
The fisherman sits on the strand,
This little fort above the sand.
Why did he go there, early morn,
Just before the sun was born?
To catch his dinner meal of cod,
Or to commune with nature's god?
The waves they roll along the rocks,
To a steady beat of many clocks,
As time will pass him slowly by,
The sun rises to light the sky.
Now it's time for him to go,
Will he return, no one will know.
If he is able, he will repeat,
And on the jetty take his seat.
Fred Guymon, September 18, 1998
Sitting on the Seawall, watching a fisherman.