a poem by Jonathan Q
The sun rises on a crisp clean day,
The waves break on the seaside quay.
Birds frolic on the solid stones,
Trying to find some old fish bones.
Undisturbed, the shore lays calm,
Peaceful yet meaningful; like a Bible psalm.
Trouble is brewing, in the distance,
Fishermen are coming, it is their subsistence.
The fishermen assemble, awaiting their turn,
To start their boats, and cause the water to churn.
The boats start, the race is on,
The men break out into a fishing song.
They speed off to their fishing spots,
Remembering to tie their mooring knots.
When the boats have sped away,
The shore returns to a quiet way.
It has returned to it’s peaceful mood,
No longer burdened by the smelly crude.
The birds are slowly coming back,
The waves are giving the shore some slack.
Everything is returning back to normal,
Nature returns, far from formal.
And when the sun begins to set,
The shore will have peace, nothing to fret.
