to be the fisherman

crouched barefoot in silhouette
simian toes grip the edge of salt smoothed wood
his shirt a gentle dance in the breeze

the boat lullabied by the sea
coloured by the last drift of light
his net gathers all he needs

sweet flesh of the sea bought home
tamarind crisped and coriander scented
his doorstep provides

and life sways with the tide and stars
fire and water, sleep with the pulse of the sun
wired only to the earth and sky

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