In Newfoundland’s mist, the boat rocks and sways,
Captain's voice booms, a tempest of rage,
“Cast your lines quicker! What’s taking so long?”
His patience is thin, like the line that’s all wrong.

The cod tease and dart, just out of our reach,
With every missed bite, he lets out a screech.
“Move to the next spot! We’ll find them, I swear!”
As waves crash and roll, he’s a storm in the air.

“Damn it, you’re tangled! What’s wrong with your hook?”
Each curse like a wave, in the salty sea’s nook.
But still we persist, through his thunderous shout,
In the heart of the ocean, we’re waiting it out.

Then finally a tug, and his anger subsides,
As the catch of the day makes the tempest inside.
But just as we cheer, he’s already set free—
“Onward, my crew! There’s more fish to see!”

M. S Chandler