Those Orcas that just got out of frame
fame and fortune in that shot-glass 'Sound'
and focused; coke-bottle vision into depths
far deeper than their soundings, though
secondary in nature and posed as opposed
to that pod's posse of curving mammals
arched into each wave or trough
in that fluid home we call Puget
with the sound of ferry engines
breaking the silent sail boat's cut
and jib as it too arcs its slack in black/white
canvas waving to windward destinations,
as each click-shutter-whirl encapsulates
drops of sun, sea gull and horizon
ghosting as though mist were sky
semi-filled number painting panoramas
and water-color soaked landings
bringing us closer to docked domains
and they disappeared into a dimpled surface
evading this circular myopic lens

-cec