Poem: Fisherman of the Sky

(for children)

My silver threaded nets,
Spun sweetly out of silk.
Carefully constructed
And cast out to catch…
Winged beasts.

Some may have stung,
Others fond of dung,
I clear the mess off these streets,
For these creeps are what I eat.

Once stuck upon my silken threads,
I wrap them up to hide their heads.
Not wanting to look them in the eye
While they die…
I can devour them in peace.

Rain or shine, I wait and wait.
Even when my nets are heavy
With large blobs of water.
Or the wind has ripped holes
In urgent need of repair…
I’m still there.

A tiny head with lots of eyes,
Eight legs, like octopi,
That help me climb extremely high…
Tis I,
The Fisherman of the Sky.

by Sylvia Villa (2022)