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.