I sit at the sea in a tiny boat,

  With a fishing rod and in my brown coat,

  The tides' tussle hum like siren singers!

  Fishless and baitless, while winter lingers.

  The seagulls watching from sky and chuckling-

  While even the sea foam giggles, bubbling,

  Is the sea as green as my seasick face?

  I check if my hands look cold blue, in case.

  I would even welcome a shark right now,

  Even pirates will get a hearty bow!

  Yet all I get is the sea's salty spray,

  Sea spitting raspberries, joining the fray.

  Sighing, I start packing my fishing rod,

  But, stop as it somehow catches a cod!

  It thrashes in attack at rod half packed,

  And under the waves my sole rod gets dragged.

  "You think that would stop me!" I shake my fist,

  "Oh! When will you learn?" the waves crash and twist.

  Next day I return with a weighted net,

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  Bringing fishes back home, my goal is set.

  From today's dark grey sky, the seagulls hide,

  Still relentless, I throw the net star-side.

  I see the rope-less net just as it falls,

  Powerless, as the net sinks to sea halls.

  I oar back home, having lost our wager,

  By now plotting of new ways to badger.

  Huffing, puffing, I heave the heavy oars,

  To enjoy my rest ere oncoming wars.

  A sudden tailwind pushes me shoreward,

  And the helpful waves urge my oars onward.

  I think I have won a new friend today—

  Delight, like having an early birthday.

  Now I know it is not kind nor unkind,

  The sea's not to such mortal traps confined,

  For such an ancient thing it's like a child,

  Now and then serene, but oftentimes wild.

  We continue for years thirty and one,

  A score of wagers lost; a dozen won.

  Until I am too frail to row again,

  And from shore, I feel my friend's tear and pain.