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Blue Crabs, Galveston Bay
Glen Sorestad


She slowly swings her woven circular net
into the Gulf that sloshes against rock slabs
of the elongated jetty on Bolivar Peninsula.

We stood, attentive to this tiny Asian crone,
while she knotted, as her ancestors taught,
a chunk of raw chicken into the mesh.

Further along the jetty, her two greying sons
cast lines into the bay, fiberglass surf rods,
afternoon sun flashing on expensive reels.

Now, crab trap at rest in the watery murk,
she sits back, content, on her rock to wait,
to sense movement below the rising tide.

We, too, wait and watch, curious, imagine
her great-grandfather whispering in her ear
minute details of foraging food from the sea.

The old woman rises, grasps the rope, draws
her net to the surface. Aii-eee! A good one!
She flips a large blue crab into the bucket.

This poem first appeared in The Dime Show Review in California.
Used here with the authorís permission.

Glen Sorestad is celebrating his 50th year of writing poems and claims he still enjoys doing so. His wife Sonia is his first and most enthusiastic reader and editor. They live in Saskatoon, the Paris of the prairies. Learn more about Glen here.


Post New Comment:
I feel as if I were there. Thank you.
Posted 08/13/2018 01:34 PM
And presumably the sons with the fancy fishing poles were skunked? I was waiting for that. Good picture.
Posted 07/30/2018 11:59 PM
Thanks Glen. I enjoyed your poem.
Posted 07/30/2018 10:29 PM
Larry Schug:
Thanks for the trip to Galveston bay, Glen, though I would have rather waited until January! I like the multi-generational aspect of this poem.
Posted 07/30/2018 09:11 PM
Lori Levy:
Very visual and picturesque!
Posted 07/30/2018 01:32 PM
Your poem recalls for me Maryland blues.
Posted 07/30/2018 11:56 AM
Yes, I can see the entire episode taking place. This poem has a great 'vision'.
Posted 07/30/2018 10:48 AM

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