I heard them first.

Short puffs of air interrupting
thoughts and thimbleberry picking
on a quiet morning walk.

Squinting and searching a
sun splintered sea
I scanned for seals.

But there were no seals.

No sea lions, no humpbacks
exhaling mist across
calm waters at dawn.

Then I heard them again.

Short syncopated bursts
of breath now very
close to shore.

My gaze followed the sounds
and there they were.
A family of killer whales.

Fins flashed with sound.

One black dorsal sliced a path
for the young to follow.
The pod glided down the inlet.

Splashing and rolling,
spy hopping and breaching,
they disappeared into the mist.

Now only sound remained.

Linda Buckley signature



“Instructions for living a life.  Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” Mary Oliver