Fishing with Birds

Fishing again on a foggy morning in the great lake
The old Chinese fisherman shares his catch with his birds.
They spend a few hours working to get in their take,
And finish off the morning with a few words.

"You two did a good job this morning I see.
When we get home I will make a great feast.
How does some vegetables sound for you three?"
The birds reply with a harmonious bleat.

The morning team heads off to their home
To take a rest from the day's starving catch.
Soon the China man goes to roam
To sell the fish out of his trunk with a latch.

The birds remain behind to rest up for the day,
For they know the work is not over yet.
Meanwhile the fisherman sells as he weighs
Taking in the money on the daily bet.

Coming home he finds the tired birds asleep
Resting their heads under wings that have dried.
His old age tells him to make not one peep,
And he settles down in his bed he spied.

The calmness of the lake, the breeze of the air
Soon finds its way into the chambers of this home.
A tired old man and a few birds sleep with no care
Until that instinctive time creeps into their dome.

Back out to the lake they all head for work,
Seeking the fruits of their labor and return before dusk.
The time seems to stretch while they lurk
Upon the water before the stench turns to musk.

The day is done while a passing stranger walks by.
Both look each others' way wondering what is going on.
The fisherman offers up a wave to say "Hi!" to this guy.
The stranger pulls out a camera to capture this one.

Each has done their work for the day.
The fisherman caught, while the photographer captured.
Each will go on home to hit the hay,
Waiting for the next morning rapture.