Smooth agates hunt sunlight
for the incoming tide.
A seal stalks the breakers
and the cutting breeze
like a wild dog.
Buoys just off shore mark
lobster pots like grave stones.
And a man and a woman hover
over a dark body, a bright stripe
on thundercloud skin,
a quiet blowhole,
the arc of tail fin
anchored in the surf.
I touched it, she says
as we approach,
I touched it.