The Ticking Clock
The weathervane bares to the moon its raven wings, in predicted circles it swings. Fishing boats rise and fall behind the jetty wall, the old man mending his netting can hear the sea call.
Ghostly snowflakes cover the seaweed floating among the rocks, the fisherman’s mind rushes like the tick of a clock. Time for one more catch before winter freezes the shore; the nets have taken too long, an overwhelming chore.
He sits remembering his world, its ghosts that the ocean has taken, the young men that Godhad forsaken. In the beginning the ancient winds brought the fish to earth, they filled the sea to give birth…
Beyond the Voices by Ann Johnson-Murphree at http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-the-Voices-ebook/dp/B00D3KB8E6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370455980&sr=8-1&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree