Encounter on Fishery Bay (Co-write with Brian Oarr)
I.
The sand is perfect ripples undulating to the bay,
as the 6:00 A.M. sun flashes open a sulfur-eye,
yawns and apologizes for its January warmth.
She emerges her tent, much as she has entered the world,
naked, but filled with wonder and an attitude.
The glassy water winks her an invitation,
morning's blank canvas beach
etched only by random footprints of seabirds.
Taking advantage of the serenity,
haltingly slipping between the waves,
her skin bristles, subsumes cool ocean freshness,
surfboard bobs obediently at her side.
II.
On this planet we have friends, who
pose no questions and pass no criticisms,
who the more they trust, the less
we can afford to make a mistake.
III.
Like a pat of butter skimming a hot pan,
she lolls blissfully on the board, soaking up scenery,
heedless to the approach from the rear,
yet, sensing she is being watched.
Dorsal fins break the water's surrounding skin,
as a pod of bottlenoses dance and play,
pretend to be oblivious, as she floats within their sights.
Their presence startles, still, she quietly observes their folly,
willing them to come ever closer...
Her outstretched hand beckons them to
circle with puppy-like curiosity.
IV.
Arguably, the perfect couple is a mother and child;
babies do more to females than make them mothers,
they bond them in a sisterhood of knowing recognition,
to which others need not apply.
V.
Coriolis swirl of scarred dolphin bodies evades inquiring fingertips,
eye of the alpha-female fixed intently on the floating visitor,
who in turn looks back in shared wonder ---
Between two mothers of the Earth, a psychic trust is formed.
The bottlenose rolls a streamlined fusiform body,
revealing a smaller version of her own,
tucked safely against her white underbelly.
The sun was racing Apollo's arc,
as they silently slipped beneath the plane and were gone.
She knew they'd been fending off a shark attack and
wished there were some way to fend off trawlers with gill nets.
A single tear rolls down her cheek,
trickles off the board merging with salty blue beneath,
reaching compassionately for her sister in the sea.
Poetry by Purple Phoenix
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Editors' choiceWritten on 2009-07-07 at 08:41
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