A motionless weathervane on a nearby church
under a glowing moon swivels and twirls as ice
forms on the jetty wall; the seashore will soon
bring winter to all. An old fisherman hurriedly
tends to his nets on a boat docked by the shore,
worried he will not finish this daunting chore.
He sits remembering the young men that the ocean
has taken, the day each left the swaying pier; do not
be afraid to die at sea he would shout its going hungry
in winter that you should fear. Looking up at the
weathervane as it whirled and daybreak peaking in the
East; the fisherman closed his eyes for the last time
watching seaweed float upon the icy rocks; he did not
beat that ticking clock.
“Life is short, live it. Love is rare, grab it. Anger is bad, dump it. Fear is awful, face it. Memories are sweet, cherish it.”
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