A Tribute to the Sun of His Heart's Setting
The cats and dogs pouncing
On the rooftop have come and gone,
Leaving a hazy cirrus stripe
Outside the dusty windowpane.
Peeking, I see through the Earth's soupy steam
An old man I once knew well
Still casting his pole onto the lake's wet skin,
Overalls and the willow he wears
Soaked to the core for he has sat
In his paint-flaking rowboat on the nose of the lake
Since before I was to awake.
I wonder what he thinks about
In his boat every dawn until break,
Sitting still as a statue, his eyes staring
As the bobber floats around
In the blue-green pool of tears.
His light pink fishing hat,
A pop of color in nature's shades,
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