Gill Nets

Old wooden boats are waiting by the sea
The tide is out they have no place to go
In stillness, they wait for the ebb and flow
The turning of the tide will set them free
All nets are ready for the casting out
As waves come closer to their aging bows
All ready to go as fishermen shout
And they sail to where the mackerel goes
The nets sink beneath and fishermen wait
To haul the fullness caught back in again
Each fish they catch adds value to the cheque
The market’s paying at the harbour gate
As the old wooden boats still take the strain
Of men and fish upon the weathered deck


© JG Farmer 2017
Form: Envelope Sonnet

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