Poem 347 – Dolphin Hunting

This brooding landscape’s constantly on the move,
a bewitching vista, coyly teasing us with
fleeting hints and passing apparitions.
A shape catches in the corner of the eye.
You turn only to find it’s gone and all
that’s left’s a question, hanging in its place.
Hoping that amongst these surging peaks they
may be found, we press on through the waves.
What’s that? You spin, a flash of grey lifted
above the spray, but no, it’s just a fish.
This false hope dashed, gone with the darkened waves,
and so time ebbs away and with it passes hope.
Resigning ourselves to disappointment, we pretend
the caves were enough. Too loud we cry, ‘All’s good!’
Bracing ourselves with bravado we turn for home,
and then, and only then, the waves are broken,
as up towards the cheering sky it soars!

At the third time of asking, our boat ‘sailed’ today. Two years ago we took this excursion along the coastal caves and then out to hunt for dolphins. We enjoyed it so much we had to take the family this time around. Dolphins? No joy, but we were finished to see leading tuna as we turned for home.
(08.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

One thought on “Poem 347 – Dolphin Hunting

  1. Pingback: The Portugal Poems | Ode for the Day

Leave a comment