The ocean’s cotton steamrolls in at dawn
And mackerels meet three fathoms deep to spawn.
My canvas sparks! Electric orange and blue
As morning’s mist dissolves around the True
(A noble name for such a vessel strong).
She seats but three, tho’ mates may steer me wrong,
And so I breathe the salt and shad alone
A lonely pawn who seeks a queenly throne.

A midday rainbow trout or snapper red
Will never fill my nets nor keep me fed;
I cast my line in search of heaven’s catch:
A shore with sands of fire and cliffs to match,
A mountain fierce whose walls forbid the weak
From reaching high the summit’s blesséd peak.
These rugged lands my home to surely be
A place for which I long but cannot see.

Old Jack the Scribe, you taught me how to fish
Surprised by joy, your tomes revealed my wish:
To drink the milk from Rainbow’s hue-striped breast,
To dance in highland greens and pastures bless’d,
I journey on towards my longing’s call
The undiscovered country consumes my all.
And so I thread a jig and tie it on
To fish for bounty in the sea beyond.