ICE FISHING DAY

The gull that snatches
fish from the ocean
as Arctic winds
pulls on our imagination
at the edge of the waters
by a frozen horizon
when here in Vermont
weapons sharpened in its origin
are wanted by fishermen
for an aboriginal spear
to survive the winter
as several guys hide
inside a coral rock
motion to me to glimpse
what is on the other side
of the docks and boats
as an eagle flies
over rusty roofs of the dock
in the feathery home harbor
among barges of Cod
upon a good haul today
by the lobster nets floating
upon green drifting waters
of an ice fishing moment
for these long armed souls
in dark lemon tattered clothes
trying to provide a living
we share bread and chowder
though we are lonely
concealed in the neighborhood
whether in alleys, galleries
or hallways of public libraries
wishing that louder waves
would speak to us aloud musically
with sunshine and not despair
in odes of Blakean poetry
through a piano's musical notes
for it is very cold on our fingers
to emote a lyrical song
there may be angel,
God knows,unaware.