The Old Man and the Sea
With difficulty the old man lifted himself from his bed,
his bones ached and pained him where the kayak’s
stiff seat had bored into him after endless hours
of otter and seal hunting.
His brow burnt, having gone out during the early
morning fog, the day had suddenly turned clear
and hot baking him in the kelp beds miles up the
Monterey coast.
The otters seemed to mock his feeble efforts
as with choppy stroke he laboured through the thick
kelp. It snared his paddle, slowed his progress causing
him to weary. Yielding to nature, he rested his paddle
across the fragile craft slowly moving as the currents directed.
Cormorants and gulls glided over powerful ocean swells,
wing tips kissing the water’s grey surface.
Stroke and pull.
He attempted a slow, continuous rhythm.
Beyond the kelp lay the infinite open ocean.
Here the deep breathing swells of sheltered water changed
to a hostile formidable barrier. Turning from the barrage
boldly stroking for the the rocks off the point,
a visible landmark, where seals basked in bright sunlight,
like tourists on a Cancun Beach.
Swells evolved to breakers crashing skyward against
immobile grey granite in a singular crash of salt spray.
A silvery grey seal gracefully emerged ten feet
from the bow warily examining the approaching stranger.
Cautiously, it dove as the old man fumbled for his camera.
Ponderously, with aching shoulders the old man made for shore.
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