I pick my way beneath an oily wooden dock,

pilings down in sea water,

feet invisible in the dark, searching,

feeling the old belief in danger;

I raise and lower my feet in gravelly sand,

edging between sharp barnacle covered posts

then out on a rotted step

where I hear a great blowing

and in the wide cove a whale,

silver and magnificent

arches its massive fluke

calling me out to open sea.