Fisherman

Some of my best memories of my grandfather were of his coming home all sun & wind burned, smelling of salt and fresh fish.

Fisherman, Fisherman
Cast your line
Bring the perch home
To yours and mine
We'll clean and scale
Then skin and weigh
And the mangy yellow dog
Will sit and stay
Out in the yard
Patient and still
Not making a sound
Awaiting her fill.

Fisherman, Fisherman
Where do you go?
Poles, nets and tackle
All in tow?
Out on tides low or high
Each day from dawn to dusk
Coming home weary
Scented of musk
Years in and out
I wish I remember when
Oh, Fisherman, Fisherman
Take me back to then.