Dawn is a Fisherman by Raymond H. Barrow Dawn is a fisherman, his harpoon of light Poised for a throw - so swiftly morning comes. The darkness squats upon the sleeping land Like a flung cast-net, and the black shapes of boats Lie hunched like nesting turtles On the flat calm of the sea. Among the trees the houses peep at the stars Blinking farewell, and half-awakened birds Hurtle across the vista, some in the distance Giving their voice self-criticised auditions. Warning comes from the cocks, their necks distended Like city trumpeters: and suddenly Between the straggling fences of grey cloud The sun, a barefoot boy, strides briskly up The curved beach of the sky, flinging his greetings Warmly in all directions, laughingly saying Up, up, the day is here! Another day is here!
Posted on: Mon, 08 Dec 2014 16:22:25 +0000
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