Sunset Fishing Lady perched upon a pontoon and
Looks toward the burning sky as the very last
Breath of daytime whippers into the face of the cool night.
She looks above the water, flat like, glass like, where
Insects lift and leave tiny shock waves which grow and
Reach across the water to spread to where some fish may bite.
The line lays long and leaning along the incline leaving up
From the wet and reaching to the end where her soft
Hands feel for any moment, any murmur on the line.
Lithe and small she stands and waits while the sun
Finally lost behind the edge of the day and the earth
And then gives way to early stars and a rising moon on time.
Silent air surrounds her and she might think her steady breath
Is heard by all the world, for it alone is all she hears.
Changing feet for comfort she shifts her weight and waits for not one
Moment in time, her destination is her journey and for
The time being, being timeless is what matters and that moonlight
Fills her hands and tomorrow she can exchange it for some sun.
Grant Fenton 31 May 2011
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