Whales at Play

Today’s draft was inspired by a chance encounter while taking a walk in Hawaii. This is another one of those poems that feels like it might want to be two poems, but for now, the two poems are nested together until they are ready to hatch separately.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published"Too little too late,"says the man on the bicycle as he rolls to a stopblocking the trail to the beach. "There were two whales -- a mother and a baby -- It must have been fifteen times they breached,over and over again. Do you know why they do that?For the journey. They take a three thousand mile journey,in March the mamas swim with the babies,teach them to be strong enough. This is the only time to see it." His pink-tinted skin glistens with layers of sweat and white, downy hair. To me he appears a rare snowy bird -- drifted on winds and will to a tropical place,here to wander, observe, speak brightly only for the joy of it. He climbs back onto his bike, glides away down the path. As the breeze from his parting trails past our faces,we turn to the oceanscanning the layers of bluefor whales at play in the water.