Village

[Heartafire]

Village

A gray antique haunches deep to
white sand, arranges a collection
of polished stones within a ring of kelp
from which the sun has baked the smell.

He can watch the launches up the reef a
way. Each man sculls his own reflection,
stands skiff-deep in netting shouldering
each craft to escape the shelf

that rings the harbor. He picks a polished
stone and tosses it into the sea. "Each
man, of his own must leave his comforts, help
to bring the village harmony," he thinks.

From the well-swept village he can see
Ko' Chi running toward his sandy seat,
calling, still unheard in the distance, but
the same, "Grandpa! Grandpa! time to eat!"

He turns his face instead toward the sea,
where the sun is now grafted to the meeting
of its perch, the sky bruised from its passing,
and tosses another stone out to the sea.

The gentle sound of little feet tamping sand
hurries louder with each tide-pass, so he fists
another stone with knuckles thick from mending
netting, now that his frame's too brittle for sculling,

rises slowly, returns to all that he must be, but
first casts one last stone out to the sea.

I kind of love this image of the little fishing village. You've done a fine job bringing it to us.
"The gentle sound of little feet tamping sand
hurries louder with each tide-pass, so he fists
another stone with knuckles thick from mending
netting, now that his frame's too brittle for sculling"
The metaphor "antique" , really nice. I like the indentations you've placed, don't know why. Thank you, I enjoyed this very much.
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