In the Strait of Juan de Fuca, on a morning tidal surge, a tall fin rises taller, taller, off the coast of Orcas Isle. Erect and stiff, he cuts the swells, spreading ripples left and right. No sooner has he met the air than her shorter, stubby fin arises, tracking, swimming at his side. They move together up and down, his curving lead she follows— fins that sway like dancers bodies not quite seen. They spout together, raise their flukes, then disappear to secret acts, leave lusting eyes to wonder, what goes on beneath the waves.