Lobster pots.

The Lobster's Advice

 

One day, while fishing by the sea,

I heard a whisper close to me

And turning round upon my chair

I saw a Lobster standing there,

Proudly preening without pause

His long white whiskers with his claws.

 

He said, "Young man, your rod and line,

Though baited well, and looking fine,

Will never do if you would find

The sort of fish you have in mind.

For those that come to you allure

May pretty seem, but insecure -

They sparkle now with colours gay

Which, by tomorrow, fade away.

 

The kind of fish you're looking for

Are well-concealed upon the floor;

They will not rise to take your bait

However long you lie in wait.

You have to seek them out yourself

Upon some underwater shelf,

Beneath the water's pastel blues,

Through shoals of fish of rainbow hues,

Past coral forests, green and red,

And there, upon a muddy bed

Among the hazards - sharks and rays

And moray eels with eyes ablaze -

An object unpretentious lies.

The oyster is your worthy prize.

 

Her outside may be rough and plain

And yet inside, an unseen gain -

A pearl of wisdom, faithful stone

That may forever hold her own

Above the fish of fickle fin;

Which proves that beauty lies within;

So take, young man, advice from me -

Look deeper down than first you see".

 

The Lobster seemed to fade from sight

As I woke up; but was he right?

 

Laurence Swift 1976

Written on the Red Sea coast of Yemen.

Printed in the local UN "Fishy News".

Done