while off on a typical fishing jaunt,
gets entangled by a trawler setline,
breaks away and flying up free again
to soar high over its polluted hemisphere
where the fish are disappearing
replaced by bits of plastic,
wonders what could be wrong
with the human race.

next poem
previous poem
Consecutive Index 3, 2, 1
Back to Contents
Angelfire Home Pages
Absolute Background
Textures Archive

Author House
John Talbot Ross