In a deserted land in a lagoon so blue,
in waters new,
memories come fresh from a year before,
they are travelers swimming from cold Arctic waters.
Calves are born playful curious carefree,
safe from the sea,
here in the lagoon,
getting bigger, stronger, fitter, wiser,
preparing for the journey to deeper waters.
The whale has a gift of frightening size
breaching it sees the skies,
up and up its rises,
then the whale goes falling, falling down,
followed by a splash as big as itself.
Flukes power the whale along gracefully,
racing toward the sea,
up and down it goes hypnotizing the fish,
the power of the fluke is strong it never fails.
Spy hopping the whale reaches for the sky,
an arrow spinning high,
taking in the scene,
like arrows the whale must go down,
in a flurry of water its gone.
If ever you haven’t stroked a whale,
don’t go telling tales,
that the skin is hard.
if you have actually felt one you will know,
it’s as soft and smooth as my brothers bottom.