The fisherman welcomed the rising sun as he
set his lines in the sea.
With hopes that a little luck with the tuna would be running for
him and his boat, the Miss Vonnda Lee.
The ocean was calm as he steered for the deep.
A westerly breeze whispering softly.
"We'll plug the hold before we sleep!" he vowed to himself
and his Miss Vonnda Lee.
All at once the baited lines stretched tight. Every hook
held its struggling bounty
The fisherman pulled and gaffed all day until dark
called an end to the bite that blessed the Miss Vonnda Lee.
While the fisherman put the last fish in ice he felt the
wind turn southerly.
As he scanned the sky he heard an ominous sigh
in the rigging of the Miss Vonnda Lee.
The fisherman at once set a course for land
in a thousand fathoms was no place to be
as the wind reached gale and the waves did stand
above the mast of the Miss Vonnda Lee.
With nine hundred fathoms still beneath him the ocean made its claim as
it took him down to her cold, dark, realm a final vision to the fisherman came.
He saw his young sister in a beautiful garden of wild flowers and
blossoming herbs. And who would know why of all the faces he'd known
the last one he'd see was hers.
And who would know why at that very same moment in time
a young woman had painted a canvas in her garden by the sea
a scene with a man she had known all her life was smiling and
waving good-bye from the deck of the Miss Vonnda Lee.
Sublime
magnificent poem.. very sad..
a reminder that fishing is one of the 5 most dangerous occupations