Dolphin pierces early fog
like a circus dog
through a flaming hoop.
I’m up early,
enveloped in that sea chill,
awaiting tropical morning burn-off.
Gale’s still in the cabin,
immersed in the porthole version of events.
More dolphins join in.
Through leaden surface,
I can see what appears to be
an underwater nimbus cloud.
It’s a school of fish.
The dolphins are herding them
like border collies
into each other’s vacant mouths.
They leap, they spin, they pivot,
they skim the waves like jet skis.
Sea World’s only half the story.
My heart takes to the whitecaps.
My goose-bumps break
over those sleek gray bodies.
Breakfast is served
and many are the ways of feasting.
Entertainment from the deck
is survival in the water.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Perceptions and Sanskrit, with upcoming poetry in South Carolina Review, Gargoyle, Owen Wister Review and Louisiana Literature.
© Willierossin | Dreamstime.com – Two Dolphins
– – –
© Rannoch | Dreamstime.com – Bottlenose Dolphins