I pick my way beneath
the oily wooden dock,
pilings down in sea water,
invisible in the dark,
and I feel the old fear.
I raise and lower in gravelly sand,
edging between barnacle-covered posts
then out on a rotted step
where I hear a great exhale.
in the wide cove a whale
silver and magnificent,
arches her massive fluke,
calling me out to sea.
Great…very specific images grounds the reader in reality and dream. I am never enthusiastic about words like “magnificent,” as they tend to tell rather than show, but I have no other quibbles! Esp. as I was at Bandon last weekend (slide show on website) and got caught in the quicksand around a large boulder similar to what you describe in this poem–around those barnacled posts the sand can go down a long ways!
I mark this poem as one of my “favorites” of yours!
So like the magic of life- the danger and the beauty.
Thank you Don!
Don, that was a bit scary, goosebumpy, then beautiful and freeing. Sending it on to a dear friend who whale watches whenever an opportunity… you’ve taught us how to CREATE the opportunity.
Over the hills, and through the woods – to the house of the grandmothers we go – graciously touching a place of rest
Wonderful metaphor! Love this…forwarding to my family.
Beautiful, Don. “Open sea”. I, too, feel the continuing call to explore greater frontiers close at hand (or to explore them more greatly). To go deep, to go wide, with friends.
Gorgeous moment, thank you!
Nice one, Don.