The Reef

The sound of muffled thunder
and the gurgling exhale of my demand valve
as ten-foot roller sweeps majestically ashore
above my head
carrying ten thousand fish in playful spin

and I, as observer, observe with a keen eye
a 300lb wrasse staring at me.

He winks a hello then goes on his way.

(photo Genevieve Johnson)

Two white-tipped reef sharks sleek as missiles
glide close by effortlessly
and at first sight feel deadly.

But then white tips paint them friendlies
compared to one thousand barracuda -
sleeker still than shark -
patrolling their fertile hunting ground
causing I, along with buddy, to hold our breath
in fear and wonder.





The coral cliff -
one half alive
built upon the bones
of the other half dead now
for God knows how long -
bathes in sunlight
even at a hundred feet down

and clown fish
parrot
angel
and
anemone

paint rainbows in the deep

while life on The Reef

sleeps with one eye open

hiding from a predator.



For when the nighttime falls
and crayfish and the lobster march
and hunger calls to those who stalk the dark
a stark reality unfolds
for those with eyes and torch to see it happen.

All of what was thought to be half asleep
is pitched against each other
in the race to eat

and darting things so fast the eye can hardly catch
dart out from little holes to snatch their catch
then dart back home
for everything is feeding
in the moonlight.