She went fishing

The fisherwoman with the green fabric tied around her head and weather-beaten face eased herself into the task of mending the nets, ignored by the crowds bustling by, eager to catch the ferry. Her  arthritic fingers lost their speed as she patiently worked.

Her keen eyes searched out amid the rising waves, the flying seabirds who marked the prey.

As the salt spray hit her lips and she balanced on the balls of her feet, muscles straining in that old familiar dance on the sea, ready and alert to net more fish. There was a flash of the fish as with a quick flick and practiced stretch, they flew across the deck.  

Her basket filled, it was pure joy.

Those great days, to tie up the boat and with careless swagger bring the overflowing boxes of fish, past the envious eyes and appreciative glances, and to collect the coins.

She lit a smoke for the long walk home, pockets jingling and jangling. She uttered a small prayer for the sea.

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