every so often they threw the seal a fish though it was only a small fish the seal would jump for joy he would wiggle his fins his nose, his eyes his space coming alive and from his landing he would dive into the water with the youthfulness of a pup diving after that little silver like it was for the first time his eyes wider than the moon as he streaked across the pool with pent up exuberance so graceful and in rhythm his back to the spectators but not really as his moon peeks through the surface back towards the smiles the cheers, the applause it meant the world to him receiving the acceptance and acknowledgment the likes, the love the words from the butterflies descending on his blooms for he sees and hears feels their touches his splashes of fate leaving his face golden and beholden in the face of sorrow he circles back to the surface pockets of bubbles rising like his love for the audience that little silver wiggles of his daily grace now his sustenance his nose, his eyes his shrill coming alive and now back at his landing animated and blessed his moon shining at the spectators and in all sincerity he lets out an arf, arf, arf intonations and sublimity dancing in the moonlight thankyou
Logan Robertson
10/14/2018
The writer writes the correlation of how a seal relishes his rewards in the same manner as how a poet here looks at his. Speaking for myself the similarities are uncanny and are the light of my day, where I'd be remiss not to give thanks, wiggle my eyes, my nose playfully like a seal.