A fisherman's tale...

Worn by the power of the salty, dark waters and the repeated acceptance of the gifts it provided, the men drearily made their way through the thick and unforgiving field of mud that had been grooved and tossed by the high sea and the movement of tires, like the gears of a well tuned clock. Behind them remained a sliver of the burnt sunset showing itself through a tear in the cloud covered, dark sky. Before them shown the cool, crisp light of dawn as, like them, the days have little rest and seem to start again before giving way to the night. Climbing the steep, sand coated stairs up the bluff that would carry them to a bit of stillness, they picked up their legs one at a time, slow and purposeful, as they seemed far heavier than normal. Finally gathered around a small wooden table lit by candle light, they held hands and gave thanks for the offerings of the day and together enjoyed bowls of warmth and peace, prepared by loving hands.