Haiku on Gray Mullet
The fisherman waits
as gray mullet feeds on weed
that he has grown them
The tide turns in time
and slowly the boat circles
as fish and man graze
Tails stemming the stream
fins disturb the bright surface
creating ripples
He can just reach them
spinney dorsals stiff to touch
shining scales reflect
Shall he capture one
or will he let them swim free
for other hunters?
More tranquile to watch
the submariners repast
by evening light fall
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