Fishermen
by Timothy Haut

A distant bell rings
Through the morning fog.
There is the slap of nets on water,
And a sudden flurry of birds
Stirring the sky.
The two fishermen are weary
Though the day is just beginning.
They sense that the seasons of their lives
Are slipping away,
Like silver fish seeking
Deeper water.
They can not see beyond the horizon--
Not the farther shore of the sea,
The green hills where a strange world is hidden,
And not the uncertain shores
Of their own mysterious lives.
Something has stirred in them, too,
This voice calling them,
This presence casting a net over their hearts,
Tugging them somewhere
Yet to be discovered.
"You will always be fishing," the man had said,
"But it will not just be fish that you seek."
The brothers feel the sun
Shining on their sweating faces.
They know that whatever will come,
They are in it together.
The younger one shades his eyes,
Squints at the man coming down the road,
Waving toward them.
They are caught by love.

(Comments to Tim at timothyhaut@yahoo.com.)
Deep River, CT