Poetry in Motion: A Fisherman's luck

A Fisherman's luck
Awoken by birds he sits up.
There's still time.
He grabs what he needs and races to the water's edge.
He doesn't carry much,
all he plans to catch is a glimpse.
He bristles past the early risers,
past men on boats beginning their morning routine.
He reaches the clearing and waits,
he knows its a creature of habit.
He squints hoping to see the giant berthing in the horizon.
He knows in this season at this time, his chances are slim.
He waits.
He walks around hoping to find it from another vantage.
Nothing.

Coming towards him,
Something catches his eye
He can hardly believe it.
Though not unheard of,
this breed rarely arrives in these waters.
But the weather has been known to invite it.
He puts his hand out to feel the fish dart around his finger tips.
He casts his net,
hoping to see a bounty upon his return.
The whale wouldn't surface at all that day.
But as he retired back into slumber,
he couldn't help but smile at his good fortune.

3 Marzo, 2011
It snowed today in Venice. Just enough to look cool from a window, but not enough to look cool on the ground. It snowed twice in Venice last year.