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"
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