A small flash of brilliant red dots a soft gray sky,

suspended on silk thread deceiving the eye.

It hangs suspended fighting the wind as the sun drops into the west.

With a fishing line and many trace in tow,

to the east it strains in flight, fighting the wind and a tethered stainless steel restraining reel.

There’s a fisherman attempts to catch an evening meal.

No luck today, the tides not right, it’s rushing out as night descends.

The fisherman and his fisher wife strip large chunky pieces of un-tantalising bait from snake like glistening silver hooks and cast it skyward, to a gathering flock of gulls waiting there on the wind, wings spread riding the waves of air swooping in close for the best and fattest morsels.

Their fishing efforts are in vain, chilled by a cold westerly as equipment is recovered, collected and stowed away.

The fish are happy no hooks today but the seagulls still complain even though they’re being fed.

Equipment packed and stowed on his back the fisherman and his fisher wife drudge wearily home through soft white sand under a cloudless quarter moon lit twilight.