The Rendez-vous

 

This blazing sky,

a burning cremation of the day’s caress,

a September morning, not yet rouge,

but a warming, coral pastel

has tinged the edge of the world.

 

The nimbus has retreated,

like vaporous sentinels,

a curtset at the horizon

and a bow from the nebulous spectator,

take their part in Nature’s meeting.

 

There, upon the water, are their shadows,

parading on the childish waves,

eloping on the sea.

Summoning the shoals beneath,

calling them in unison.

The lifeblood swimming through them

catches the eye above;

cascading, rhythmic, lustrous,

a heartbeat misses and the shadow

returns.

 

The sky is falling

on collapsing wings;

a pulsing, furious bombardment

of the ocean’s cloak.

A flash of white and coral

and a splash that showers the air

-         it’s a novice, not yet fine-tuned

to the graces of the dive,

but surfacing triumphant

in a glide that lifts the breeze.

 

The shoal is turning landward

-         the haven of the shade is there

towering above, but from below

the dolphin tribe attacks

in waves that challenge the marine

for its poetry.

 

Herding their catch, not netting

and, glancing through the mirror,

reassurance of the meeting place

gained from a sordid echo

from the iron-clad hull.

 

It’s racing through Neptune’s cape,

as Poseidon’s trident is flung.

But Atlantis’ spirit is there,

laughing at the proudness of its bows.

They turn and turn again

to catch the parting sea –

a leap and turn away,

pulsing with sea and air

and shoal.

A dance from the azure prince

to the tempo of man’s adventure.

 

But the watcher has been watched,

even as he turns

from his greatest vision of Her;

the bluest eyes of all the skies

and the living ocean stirs.

 

 

© Andrew Williams 1992

 

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