Fisherwoman

It was the whimsy, so endearing

I said to myself later at home

that turned my gaze northward

toward the unlikely sound

of a voice, rising with beauty

above the crash of the ocean

against the colossal granite

at the end of the wall

Amongst the rotting flesh and

discarded tackle of her peers,

dressed in grey trackies

faded flannel shirt and scuffed sneakers

her unruly curls defied the constraint of her beanie

as I became captive to her face,

aged, lovely, a classic Renoir,

and her unselfconscious melody

With hands masterful and deft

she baited her rod

paused to let the dolphins pass,

looked back, and cast long

a practised throw, plonk

one solitary fisherwoman,

with a song in her heart

How beguiling!