catch of the day
Dark Harbor, 1943, N. C. Wyeth
The onlookers were silent. Perhaps a dozen or two, or maybe a hundred cats on the lip of the water-logged pier. Waiting patiently, their necks erect, small pink stealth nostrils flaring. Waiting. Tails swishing in slow motion. Waiting for the men returning from the daily catch. Catch of the day. And yet - none to be gotten. A fisherman standing in his boat slams an oar. They scatter, the sound of small paws like tap dancers losing an audition. Eyes wide and tongues dry another day.
posted by phil at 8:53 PM
3 Comments:
awww I can hear those cats "sighing" from here! Thanks for visitng my blog and have an outstanding evening.
Ever hopeful cats.... wonderfully crafted tale!
Ah purr-fectly written, you had this so vivid for me I can still hear their purr!
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