Last Morning at Ballynahinch Castle

[nana]

Last Morning at Ballynahinch Castle

It’s just me and the morning sun
and a pot of strong coffee among
the song of anonymous birds and 
the fisherman below my terrace
balanced on the bank of the Owenmore
having tied a semblance of hope
to the end of his line, which he floats
over the water to the metronome 
of his lagging heart, again and again
he lays the long snake of his line to drift
with the roil unconcerned about what gifts
might rise from these dark waters.

This isn't the poem I set out to write.  The original was much more ambitious, but I put that aside for a cleaner version.  Maybe someday I'll expand.

I really like how the poem does a good job of painting a picture of a fisherman taking his time with his task. He is unconcerned with the gifts but he has a "lagging heart," which shows he wants something yet he's willing to wait with hope on the other end of the line. The fisherman part was enjoyable to read, the beginning was lacking in good adjective. You definitely could have used something better for "morning sun" and "strong coffee", but this is me nitpicking. 
I would like to mention the "anonymous fish" statement, even though I know a previous critique already mentioned it. The problem with that term is it makes it seem like you are in a unfamiliar place, but the rest of the poem feels homey, like you've been observing the the fisherman for a while.