Mending The Nets

An orange sun blinked and yawned Ending nights cold darkness and Slowly started to rise in the East. As darkness fled the shapes of Plastic Coke bottles, crisp packets And fast food wrappers of the previous Evening floated down the river towards The harbour entrance and open sea. Wispy smoke from riverside cottages Started to climb as breakfast beckoned Sleepy households. Distant lights from a Homecoming trawler approached from The sea as an early mist began to clear. The rigging from yachts in the marina With flags of identity whistled as the Wind began to waken with a soft breeze. A group of four men sat on the harbour Wall dressed in well worn dark jumpers With heads covered in equally worn wooly Hats. They sat crosslegged on discarded Wood pallets and were mending their nets With skills handed down to them from their Forefathers. Joking about an imagined love Life or what happened in the pub last night. They hope for a safe passage and a safe Return for the sake of their families, they Hope for kind weather and above all, plenty Of fish in the nets they are now mending.