At Zacatito
we paddled our slender kayaks
half a mile offshore
to where the sea gods were breathing,
silvery plumes of exhale
hung shining in the late sunlight,
were we at our peril
gallivanting with a pod of 40 ton humpbacks
in the pelagic wilderness?
Maybe not,
but we could not be certain,
and such brinkmanship
easily translated into high adventure...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent visuals, loved the poem. Are you still writing? I did a poem-a-day during April for poetry month - a few decent in the bunch, a few need some editing... may get around to posting some one of these days. Regards - john