For the Love of Cod

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Daybreak’s coming,
Bringing with it
Dark September squalls
On ominous clouds,
Raising the ire
Of white-tipped waves,
Foaming like rabid dogs

Still,
We push forward
To meet each punch:
Our nose to the wind;
Heads slightly bent
To shield our eyes
From the stinging salt spray

And between the crests and troughs –
Hanging on to the tots,
Our white-knuckled fingers
Straining –
We slip our lines
Into the fathoms below,
Hoping to satisfy our needs
Before winter’s arrival

Authors blog can be found in the link below.

hooklineandinkwell

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