A man looks over,
his shoulder as he rows.
The fog creeps closer,
and closer.
At the end of his good day,
catching Halibut.
Now he had to race,
the fog with his calloused hands.
Can’t get lost in the fog,
lost forever.
Wooden planks groan,
sea swells hitting the sides.
Have to hurry,
or the sea will become his home.
Author notes
This was a class assignment to describe a famous painting in a poem but not to tell who the painting was by. I based mine on "The Fog Warning" by Winslow Homer, which is on display at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.
Written August 3rd, 2006
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