The Cave At Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz it was deep and blue-green and you could see the sandy bottom where mako sharks circled the boat, waiting for scraps, a habit they'd learnt from the tour boats that's when I heard the sound I hadn't heard anytime before, a rasping blow of air,stifled by the blood-foam sea and granite drum rocks of the jagged cave nearby I took up the anchor and let the crafty current pull me over to listen more: the cave, like an open sore... a home to birds and maybe more? the dark hole,seen many times before but never entered, drew us in, me and the bobbing sea-sick boat:the sound grew louder and filled my ears and a shaft of ocean light shone on a sight I knew...a gigantic whale...vast and drawn, filled the dark dank seaweed cave the blow hole blew the living spray which bounced off the rock roof and pierced the sea below, a thousand darts at play and I came up close to the him,in the choppy tropical sea and saw his eye, the size of a saint's halo looking out at this new,dark closed world and I wondered what he was thinking... then as if giving me his final goodbye, he sprayed and blew, then rolled over onto his side, revealing his white,ribbed underbelly, now safe from the whaler's knife and I shook off a tear and swept the hair from my face, gunning the boat's motor against current and wind and as I made distance away from the cave I thought I heard a sound, or was it the reefs and the bouncing waves below, like an army of humpbacks saluting a friend, before the hammerheads and makos swam in for the end? and the sun-cracked sky and the salt in my face spoke, "you'll never forget what happened this day"