The Fishermen and his Wife

The cold wind blew a raspy whine,
bringing along the scent of oak and pine.
Fog began to settled down over the lake,
making the scene look almost fake.
The light from a fishermen’s boat shone through the haze
and reflected off the water in a yellow glaze.

As evening began to settle in around his boat,
he glanced where his bobber was a float.
No longer could he see its white, round top
and he knew that it was time for his fishing to stop.
He reeled in his line, which was slack,
folded his pole and began to pack.
He unlatched his paddles and began to row,
just as another fearsome wind began to blow.
He was almost half way home when it began to rain.
He was old and tired and he knew his strength would start to drain.

He paddled on for the thought of his wife
lonely, worried sick and filled with strife.
He paddled on for the thought of his dinner
he was hungry and felt a little thinner.
And yet he still paddled, leaving out the gloom
and the worry of his closing doom

His light bobbed on and his wife could see
and she was as worried as worried could be,
she knew her husband was old,
and that the night was wet and cold.
And what about the arthritis in his hand?
will it keep him from reaching land?

He was almost there, so close and yet so far
He felt as if his arms were stiff and filled with tar
His hands were numb from the cold storm
and he couldn’t wait to be safe and warm,
so he paddled the last there was to paddle
and he clambered on land with a final rattle

His wife rushed out to help and greet
she reached him just as he got to his feet
They both embraced with much relief
and went in the house with no further grief.