Beleaguered fishermen stand gazing <br />At the ocean's vast expanse <br />In hope withal of some hefty catch, <br /> <br />Of salmon, or kingfish <br />To sell same in the village <br />Later that day, <br /> <br />To buy flagons of burning rum <br />And whiskey, made in some secret still <br />Behind the cove....... <br /> <br />Away from the prying eyes of the policeman <br />Now briskly walking, on his beat, <br />In a village <br /> <br />Where the sun meets the shimmering water <br />In a flash of liquid brilliance <br />And seagulls fly overhead, <br /> <br />With a screeching hoot <br />That signals the start of the rains, <br />In a village named after ''the washerwoman''.<br /><br />ENOCH JOHN<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/village-life-2/
