Purple sea stars at low tide
Cling to seaweed-encrusted rock.
Sun sparkles on gentle swells.
A herd of seals swims slowly by,
Paying me no heed.
I am not so important.
A gull laughs,
And a raven croaks a response,
While orcas breach
Across the Strait of Georgia,
Showing off for their pod members,
Flukes kicking high in their elegant dance.
Warm jacket and
Spicy herbal tea
To ward off the chill.
Ditched the television
To sit in Nature and
Watch her script be played out
By unsuspecting actors.
I don’t see the blowhole,
But the sound of the exhale
Echoes across the strait.
I glance quickly toward the hovering mist
And see the gray whale’s dorsal fin
Just before she dives.