By Stephen Douglas

Upon the beach of Life, I cast my line with weight and baited hook; I swing it\ back like a sling shot; it is flung way out to splash into the sea of hopefulness.

Some folk must return, others seem new; both come armed with chair, a rod\ and a bucket of bait with a spirit of sportsmanship, to the sea of hopefulness.

Another group arrive, with a newer method of catching; their line is set\ by a machine; and then they regroup to brag of a past sea of hopefulness.

Their chatter is loud, but not too far away are those who sit in thoughtful\ contemplation; both are waiting for their catch, from the sea of hopefulness.

Cast and wait seems to be the rhyme; but some come to the beach of Life,\ to make their own assessment of what is observed at the sea of hopefulness.

The catch is what I wait for, as my bait sinks down there’s the hope it will snag\ something worthwhile consuming, from the sea of hopefulness.

Upon the beach of Life, I watch and wait trying to distract the thought of\ changing spots to bring me luck, as I face the sea of hopefulness.

I gather my gear together pack it into my bag, swing it on my back; and off\ I stride to what seems a brighter spot (to do the same) on the beach of Life.

A motor-home starts; a watcher departs their stop (for another beach?)\ they come; solos, pairs, an occasional group, to stare at the sea of hopefulness.

The newer set of fishermen have no rod, so the casting skills of yesteryear\ maybe lost; I wonder how they value their presences on the beach of Life.

I see some ride the beach on machines, some walk man’s best friend while\ a few brave souls plunge into the liquid topography of the sea of hopefulness.

I turn back on the beach of Life, completing my hours of living, thinking, breathing,\ dreaming; to pen today’s observations, at the sea of hopefulness!

New Year’s Day sleep over at Otaki Beach (river mouth end.)

© stephen c douglas, as Kiwi Poet – 02/01/2023