The Fisherman

I watched my friend at work today
While I was eating lunch,
Doing things he does best
In his serious way,
Harvesting by the bunch,
His legendary meals with zest,

J. Pierpont, is my name for him
Because of a lifestyle
That ingests all in sight.
Not humor, fun or whim
Could, either, reconcile,
Their labors lasting unto night.

Waiting atop a chosen perch
For dinner cruising by,
It would not be too long,
His klutzy, clumsy lurch
Would choose the one to try
And right a barren belly's wrong.

He never missed. As I observed
Him, for the hour, it seemed
He'd stop, too full to fly,
His satiation served;
But like a clock once deemed
To chime, on time must do or die.

I thought he must have caught ten pounds,
Within the time I watched
An adroit fisherman;
Faithful, he made his rounds
With not a foray botched,
Nature's finest, the pelican.

--Carduelis Tristis

copyright 1999, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved