The Fog Warning, Halibut Fishing, Winslow Homer, 1885.

Glimmer of streaked rose revealed
Weary mariners survived black night,
Pitching slate waves, over-washed in
Exploding spray. Such were their lonely
Pains; such was their shivering plight.

O! Insolent Seas, dark-galing nights,
Know not God’s love, families caring,
Nor lover’s pleasured embrace. Instead,
Sky-blocking sirens erupt and ensnare,
Heaving night-long, shipwrecking spite.

With trawl-net dragging, maneuvering
Gathered in breaching wheel-turns.
Dreadful plowing of bow-splayed waves,
They feared surging briny walls, wailing,
Glistening in crescentic moonlight.

Sea wanderers struggled as waves forced
Back, pushed them down. Churning full-
Throttle, diesels strained for headway,
Running amongst perilous frights, ocean
Rollers overpowering in weight and might.

No disgrace is fixed when mariners flee
Swelling crests. With trawl-net trailing,
They searched for dawn’s ascending light,
Hailed sight as foam-streaked seas abated
Beneath lofty clouds, reassuring and bright.

While fog did not weary the sea wanderers in this poem, Winslow Homer’s “The Fog Warning” exemplifies the lone fisherman confronting perils of the open-ocean.
Row my son until your arms ache and your back breaks. Yes b’y.
Thanks for reading.

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