a little hut beside the river

there’s this little hut
at the point
where the gates move
with the tide
allowing the river
into the fields
and the fish come in
and go out
it ain’t much, this hut
but then
when the sun beat us down
it was nice
to just sit there
and wait it out

a few planks
a few nets in repair
an odd fishing gear and rod
thatched roof
an errant bottle always empty
a few match boxes
a couple of lamps
and a quart of oil
us fishermen
did not need much
it was our little kingdom
us kings with no crown
at least on days
the fish bit

on most days
it was a friend
one meets
when all seems lost
& you curse your luck
& the fish in turns
a place to vent
before the walk home

its still there
that hut
no clue who the owner was
but then in my village
thats how it is
everything belongs to everyone

like the river…