Long ago, lighthouse keepers enjoyed an unusual sport called kite-fishing. From the top balcony of the lighthouse they flew kites which were attached to fishing lines. The kite held the line far enough away from the land so that the line dropped straight into the water. It's thought that this sport was invented at the old Eddystone light.

I am the keeper of the lighthouse light.
I fish by kite.
A long line goes from hand to kite,
another from kite to sea.

A line to the sea, to the wrinkled sea,
while the kite swings high and low,
pulling the net that ribbons away,
billowing net in the white-tipped waves,
and the wind blows up
and the wind blows out
where the golden kitefish go.

All that I see in the sea is mine.
I have my pick.
Opaline sea where the fish run thick --
but they slip away,
they slip through the net,
go leaping from crest to crest.

"Stay," I call.
"Oh, no," say the fish.
"Maybe another time. Maybe next year."
And, grinning, they disappear.

The beam of light sweeps over the sea,
over their backs it rolls,
over the fish as they scallop away,
shimmering fish in the white-tipped waves.
And nobody comes
nobody comes
nobody comes at all.

My friend the moon is a cake that grows
and shares itself with me.
And all its slices, slicing down,
night by night until it's gone,
grow back again one day.

Kitefish, come, it's time for tea.
A slice for you, a slice for me.
And shadow cookies with our tea.
And shadow cookies by the sea.

I am the keeper of the lighthouse light.
I watch by night.
And when the sandman wishes for sand
he fishes from his star.
A long line goes from star to moon,
another from moon to shore.

A line to the shore, to the pebbled shore,
while the moon hangs heavy and still.
Here's his bucket scooping sand,
sleeping sand for children's eyes,
and the wind blows up
and the wind blows out
while the sandman's bucket fills.

Sandman, listen:
all of the sea that you see is yours.
You have your pick.
Under the lighthouse the sand runs thick
with wishes that turn to pearls.

Don't you know I'm a fisherman, too?
I have a line like yours.
I have a table and three small chairs.
But nobody comes
nobody comes
nobody comes at all.

Tonight by moon I saw his line
get tangled up with mine.
My big fish jumping got away,
but quick the sandman in his nightcap
skibbled down the line.

Down from the star
you came in time
and took the tangles
out of the twine.

A line to the sea,
to the wrinkled sea,
a line to the shore,
to the pebbled shore.
One from a kite,
and one from the moon,
hanging side by side.

Sandman, come, it's time for tea.
A slice for you, a slice for me.
And shadow cookies with our tea,
And shadow cookies by the sea.

He rode my kitefish back to shore
and looked at me
as I looked at him.
"What's in your bucket?" I called to him.
"Three fresh slices of moon," he said,
"I cut on my way down."

Fishing, wishing, I fished them up.
Soon we were ready for tea.
The moon was a yellow wheel in the sky,
spinning confetti into the sea.

"A slice for you, a slice for me,
A slice for the fish who came from the sea,
And shadow cookies with our tea,"
The sandman said to me.

And I have a table with three small chairs
and company tonight.

© 1998 Toby Speed

Many of Toby Speed's children's stories have been published in Highlights for Children, Jack and Jill and other magazines. She is the author of a number of picture books, including WHOOSH! WENT THE WISH and the best-selling TWO COOL COWS. You can read more about Toby by visiting her website.

She can be reached at toby@tobyspeed.com

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