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The Bay at the Edge of the World The Bay at the Edge of the World
by Nikos Laios
2019-05-22 07:42:43
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The grey mist
Sat on the ocean
In the harshness
Of winter and white flecks
Danced on the choppy sea
Under strong winds
Gusting to the shore.

img_2026_storm_bay_400The cry of seagulls
Filled the air and they
Swirled above a fishing
Trawler emptying its cargo,
The gnarled rough hands
Of fishermen cleaning
The deck of fish guts
And hauling nets.

The warm lights
From the sole tavern
On the bay beckoned
Them like a siren,
With platters of
Meats and bread
And giant pitchers of beer
Brought by buxom maids,
And the sounds of roaring
Laughter and talk all mingling
Together with the music
From an accordion.

It was a small
Remote fishing village
Hugging the coast
In a cold and bitter
Winter but to these
Fishermen and their families
It was one of the warmest
Places on earth because
Their hearts and souls
Belonged there;
Stripped bare by
A simple way of living
Forged by the centuries.

Nothing was
In excess,
Everything
Was used,
Their needs
And wants
Were simple,
They lived
In the moment;
And they
Were authentic,
And vital,
And real.

The grey mist
Rolled over the bay
And the squall
Battered the inn,
Its stone walls
Rooted in the earth,
And everyone huddled
In the corners
With their cheeks
Warm and glowing red
As the fire from the sole
Fireplace warmed the inn;
Shadows dancing against the wall
As the laughter and voices floated
Up to the rafters with the aromas
Of baked bread and beef.

They resisted the winter,
They resisted the outside world
With authenticity and passion
In this small inn, in this small
Fishing village on a bay
At the edge of the world.

*******************************************************

With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios

*******************************************************

Check Nikos Laios' EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!
 
life_41_400

 


   
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