Free verse № 144449
Orca
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 followsâ
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.
8 comments
Anyway, that's a minor point. Your writing seems to be getting better and better with every post.
I've had an unfinished whale poem (not as fun as this) for years--maybe this'll inspire me to finish it. Funny how once in a while there's one that just leaves you stymied re: how to finish it!
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