Sunday, 27 October 2013

Go Fish

At this time of year countless little fish
swim in shallows of the Aegean sea,
newly born there, quick and flickering
cutting slick water under bright sunshine.

Incoming and outgoing waves sensate
and slowly pebbles turn to integrate.

Nearby spots of flotsam move more softly
but, best of all, darting, diverting black fish
seeming to dance in their idealism,
safe and quick, inquisitive.

I’ve seen them before and caught their spell
but this time I look more closely, turning
eyeballs in tandem with an alien
environment that I’ll never discern.

And I see not single fish but, always,
there are two fish – a black darter and a
white partner, arcing effortlessly as one;
nimble and absolute, together.
They are mating, surely, invertebrates,
black and white, peace and space, united.

I show them to my wife as a miracle,
duck even closer, then step away,
stand back.

Waves turn. Like a perceptual puzzle,
two fish, lively, diverge, turn back to truth
and become one tiny silver creature
making its way alone in the ocean;

an explorer sucking life, mouth open,
eyes awake; this way, that way, any-way,
projecting black shadow from a bright star
onto our waiting earth.


  1. Wow John! I was just taken to a world where I couldn't breathe and fish were swimming around me. Great prose. Helmi_BM (Twitter)

  2. This is beautiful