Fisherman by Jay Macpherson

When I searched online for a fresh copy of the poem Fisherman by Jay Macpherson, I hardly got a reliable copy of it. The available online copy of the poem was not in a printable form. So I just typed it and thought of sharing it online. 

The Fisherman

Jay Macpherson 

The world was first a private park

Until the angel, after dark,

Scattered afar to wests and easts

The lovers and the friendly beasts.

And later still a home-made boat

Contained creation set afloat,

No rift nor leak that might betray

The creatures to a hostile day.

But now beside the midnight lake

One single fisher sits awake

And casts and fights and hauls to land

A myriad forms upon the sand.

Old Adam on naming day

Blessed each, and let slip away;

The Fisher of the fallen mind

Sees no occasion to be kind,

But on his catch proceeds to sup;

Then bends, and at one slurp sucks up

The lake and all that therein is

To slake that hungry gut of his,

Then whistling makes for home and bed

As the last morning breaks in red;

But God the lord with patient grin

Lets down his hook and hoicks him in.