For all the wow’s and look’s
I could not see the Dolphins
until I came under the night sky
Their slick diving and rising
like silver coins tossed into a fountain
in slow motion first one ebony arch then another
Our eyes stay fixed on holy spot
only to be summoned to a
miracle rising across the bay
They seem to be swimming a slalom
leaping around moon-glow ripples
a team in the lead
The night suddenly goes silent like a church
We become parishioners—hands touching
praying for another apparition
lasting an infinite moment
And these Dolphins—they seem to
expect the kindness of the water
holy liquid blesses them then welcomes them back
wherever their bodies deem the place
When they leave the bay deep and blue
Will the sea remember their pilgrimage
left alone holding only the faces of haloed moon
and swimming stars in its watery wrinkles?
