185. Under the Coral Sun

Six months had passed
since I last tread this path in the daylight,
the time when the shadows stretch long
and everything takes on a coral tone
that makes me hair look auburn, rosy.

The birds gather the same way
they did in the darkness just before dawn,
their small white bodies settled in the dirt
but tense, wary of my presence.

The path is more vibrant,
the water shines brighter
and I can better see the crab
scurrying around the small rocks.

My feet know this path,
but there is enough newness
to carry me forward
until the year cycles around
and I trod in the darkness
once more.

151. Not Just Another Rock

Movement in the water makes me stop
on the dirt slope as I discern a shelled
animal moving around the shallows
a short distance from my steel-toed boots.

I think it's a turtle at first, a small snapping
turtle or the eastern box turtles I used to see
at home in the ponds where they swam
but too often couldn't manage to climb out.

But it's a crab scurrying through the water
with no direction or purpose, just ambling
backwards and sideways across the dirt
until it seems to notice me, my shadow,
perhaps, and it rushes off to pretend
it's just another rock in the bottom of a basin
with too few rocks to aid the fearful crab.

The Green Turtle

From the truck, only the shell is visible,
a brown dome peaking out of the water,
but as they reach in to grasp the turtle,
I see the brown head and long flippers
hanging useless with no traction in the air
rather than struggling to swim or flee.
Once the turtle is settled in the truck bed,
I climb into the passenger's seat for a bumpy
ride on the dirt roads to the channel.
Back in the water, the turtle moves slowly,
its fins taking calm, measured strokes
as it moves with the tide, against the wind.
Long minutes pass and it hasn't reached
the first bend, but we've done enough,
we don't need to witness its struggles.

In the Deep

The turquoise water is murky when we jump
off the boat to find the whale sharks in the deep,
but I have one goal when I hit the ocean:
to get to the spotter as quickly as I can
so I can see the whale shark a longer time.

This time, I cannot stay astride of the fish
for long, because my tired legs can't make
up the distance when it turned away from me,
still swimming easily but speeding out of sight.

Once I cannot see it or my fellow snorkelers
who are still managing to match the pace,
I grow hyperaware of how low visibility is
and I wonder if the whale shark was keeping
other creatures at bay, even though it eats
plankton, so I lift my head to locate the group
and use this new motivation to hurry back.

Later, someone will ask if we could see
the ocean floor while with the whale sharks
and I'll realize I never even thought to look.

Swimming with Whale Sharks

I jump off the marlin board, one hand on my mask
as my wetsuit jerks me up before my head goes under;
I flex my hips to make my flippers curl in the water
as I try to avoid the people jumping behind me
and head through nothing but turquoise with bubbles.
I peak my head up once to reorient myself on the spotter
and begin kicking harder to be the first to the fish.
The spotter slowly appears in the murky water,
swimming on his side to watch the whale shark
and I follow his gaze to the large spotted swimmer
moving lazily but quickly through the deep.
I fall into formation and attempt to stay astride
for as long as possible, while keeping the mandatory
distance from its side. Too soon, the spotter raises
his fist in the stop sign and we watch the whale shark
continue uninhibited until it disappears from sight.

Later, they'll tell us that must have been a juvenile,
because it seemed to be just two meters long.

From the Bucket

We slowly drift out of our plastic patio chairs
as he hauls the white bucket onto the cobblestone
to get an expert opinion on the six crabs within.
It seems impossible to fit so many crabs inside
so he reaches in, hesitates, shifts the bucket,
and reaches in once more to pull out the first crab.
It doesn't move. The blue pinchers don't snap,
the legs don't kick out in a desperate escape bid.
It remains on the pavers where it's set.
The second crab also doesn't try to defend
but its mouthparts flex slowly, minutely.
A third crab joins the first two on the stones,
none of them moving their legs or pinchers
from within the circle of pale bare toes.