FISHING IN FOG

A winter Sunday, fog and purchase kamagra overnight delivery frost

Two figures climbing a stile

Boots crunching crisp grass underfoot

Head toward the Thames at Clifton

 

My father not yet seventy, still working

And I back home for a day’s fishing

Struggling with tackle and reels in the cold

Sit expecting nothing, no fish bite in this weather

 

Talk about things, my grandparents

The cost of renting, share a flask of tea

Steam rising across his face as he pours it

Lines taught in the brittle air, disappearing

 

Then slowly the viagra no prescriptions sun starts to purchase viagra without a prescription lift the fog

The opposite bank starts to appear

A moorhen skirts the bank, swans drift by

Beyond the fog a dog barks endlessly

 

For a few hours we hold on to hope

Stare back into the white eternal glare

Of mist along the river looking for a bite

Staring at futures unseen, but clearly there

 

Now and again on a misty morning

Crossing the Trent I see father and sons trudging

Through the buy viagra cheap online mist and rain together, silent

Sharing thoughts, hopes, jokes, together

Their lives unravelling like lines in the air.