The Fishermen of Lintuan

Even as the fickle sea rocks

To Habagat’s temerity,

The fishermen of Lintuan set forth

To cast their hooks. Their daily tryst

With the waves’ pummeling must be kept just

As the sun’s rising to early call of cocks.

 

The sea is life: Skiffs, frail bodies

For dreams; paddles, feet to prod on

To the quest; and lines are hands

Dropped to the very depths

For priceless essence of existence.

 

The glory of a catch – the frustrations

Of having none – are but bubbles

Cast by their rippling sprints

In their homebound stretch

For neither wind nor wave can temper

The smiles of wives, fish-vending maidens

And the giddy laughter of kids

Ashore warmly waiting;

 

As well as the feel of sand

Beneath the feet.