The Fisherman and The Dancer

My Father once told me a story I felt was rather arbitrary

When he had left the country to feed his family

He spoke to me through the snowy mount we trekked:

The Fisherman, drew a line, at boat deck

At Alaskan seas, with ice and glaciers beside and beneath

Not a tug at the string, nor a fisherman’s omniscience

When casting at sea, not a fish had made known beneath,

The Fisherman felt the racking at boat deck

And the belee blew harsh, and the glaciers

Sand away and pummel with snow wreaths,

Now the Fisherman with snapped line,

Had been a boat in a wreck

And the sleet holding it still was creaking weak

And a hole in the boat, had made him freezing wet

And his body fell to rest, and the fish had made known

The Fisherman drowning, with his cast frozen in hand

And they circle the boat that carry him, and await for him to fall towards home;

And in the sea, that a freeze has made hard and icy

A sprite of starry snowdrift that cyclone the air

Had twinkled brightly and whirled, a dress of frost, on a figure of a girl

And she danced along the icy land, and a requiem sang at the pitch of her hair

And the ice was her stage, and made so the Fisherman hadn’t sunken away,

Until at last she played, a song of the Fisherman’s youngest day,

One his mother sang that day, when tears had never shone brighter

When his cries so loud twined his newly loving mothers

And life that day, was a golden stay

With his life, drifting and sighted gray

The dancer, sprightly sang

Her toe gyrating, and her heel hanged

Her feathered weight, as she hover

And spin, and ballet withal winter cover

Her twinkling figure, shone unlike any other

And sudden stop, her dress fold and clutter

And respun and resung requiem in reverse order

And the icy shore and boat rebuilt from broken tatters

And the dancer capered in familiar pattern

Yet an ominous despair had she shone

As she dancing further away and left audience alone

And heel toward air and leg and arm in stance

The ballerina dancer had sanded away, and froze in dance

And the matter of her figure healed his shattered life

The fisherman with a sinking moment with a final strife

With second wind, and added time

With fingers frozen still at the casting line

Caught a fish, and danced in the hooked line

Just like that sprite, on the ice

And just this once, felt one fish sufficed