At the Fishhouses

In the cold, cold sea, there are fish houses. The doors are open, and the small fresh fish are hanging, glistening with the dew, while the great fishermen who know the phosphorescence like a starry ocean of distant storms, breathe deeply of the salt air.

This way you can tell the past from the present, one is the weight of the fish, the other the weight of the sea.

• Elizabeth Bishop

• Elizabeth Bishop