A WAY OF LIFE
Moisture suspended in the dawn
Fog so thick like air you can drink
Dew soaks the traps on the lawn
You can smell that salt water stink.
First day of the season
No, not a day safe to go out
These are men without reason
On the water, they have no doubt.
Load the traps on the half ton
Race to the government dock
Hurry Lads, there’s lobster to be won
Hustle before tide uncovers the rock.
Bay of Fundy Tides over 50 feet
Catching lobster for generations
It’s the weather they have to beat
Man the boat at their stations.
All hands can be lost
Old man Neptune is the boss
Over the years at awful cost
Widows at home mourn their loss
Yet every season they set sail
Fearless of the seas they face
Waves crash against the rail
To set their traps a gallant race.
Over coming ocean storm
To catch that two clawed creature
Risking life is the norm
Ah the oceans angry nature.
Mothers,daughters,kids at home
Ever watching troubled skies
Their loved ones on the ocean roam
Worry fills their troubled eyes.
At last a tiny speck on horizon shows
The traps are set they’re coming home
Relief sets in as every one now knows
They’re safe for now until again they roam.
Luke August 15th 2010
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You vividly portrayed the life of the fisherman. In particular the life of the lobster fisherman, I was right with you and visualizing what you were saying in this poem. I was reminded of some of the episodes of "The deadliest Catch" on TV. But you brought in the sacrifices that have been made and the sometimes sorrowful results of their trips at sea
Thank You
Be always safe,
Karen