Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Ripples-A poem

He  sits   hunched   and   bowed,  peering  at
His    line,   lost    in   thought,   silhouetted  in
The   sinking   sun.  The  light  of  the  setting
Sun,  coppery-red,   casting   long    shadows.

The   ripples  made  large,  each  a  profound
Tale  to  tell!   I  wonder  at   his thoughts, but
Don’t    want   to  intrude.  Think   I  to  myself,
What  secrets  is  he privy  to?

What  do  float,
Line, bait and sinker  tell him   of  the  ripples?
He  holds  the  line  delicately  in his fingers as
He   nods  silently  at  the  water, in  commune
With   the  depths. 

It  is as if  he  talks to each
Ripple  as  it  passes, but  shares  none of his
Secrets   with others! I sit with rod in hand,but
Hear  no   word   from  the  ripples   that  pass,
Dancing gaily.

I look  once again at the ripples
And see, tragedy, malice,victory, joy and  love.
If    this    Is  the  message  of   life,  then,  it  is
Divine   to    fish,   if    only   to   watch   ripples  
Dancing In the  setting  Sun  and  learn  of life!

For will I take  the  good  with  the  bad, defeat
With victory, and  go  without  fish,   but all  the
Richer  for   the  secret  that  the ripples  will
Tell  me.

To see the ripples in the  setting Sun,
The fisher   man  nodding at   the  water would
Draw  me  out in the    setting   Sun  any   day!

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