 |
 |
Yesterday morning at 5.30ish we got up and went to do some whale watching. There had been reported sightings during the week and its whale season for the next two weeks. Anyhow, thoroughly inspired by a magnificent sight I wrote a poem today - first draft. Be gentle, but comments/constructive criticisms please. Cetacean Symphony Winter's dawn light, first Sunday aft of midwinter's night. We take a look from Captain Cook Lookout, First Point, Copacabana. An east coast sea, greyed slick and steely, tiny boats dotting the path of the sun's shimmering clear light, while Sydney's centre points the far distant southern smogged sky. First sighted, a distant spray, a blow, a flash of sunlight on a wet back breaching the waves. "There!" a cry, binoculars swing to follow a pointed arm. "Got it!" the reply. The lookout fills as morning progresses from hushed polite awed whispers, to rude noisy parents whose children whine. Gross consumers, un-green, the first to denounce the 'ferals' who activate for the environment, cluster expectantly at the rails, straining to see saved whales. Their interest is aroused, but not from concerned thoughtfulness, rather the cheap thrill, the free ride. No sense of the tide's subtleties. Media driven to see the sea's cets. Close in, huge humped backs dive, rise again in paired synchrony, barely a splash to mark their progress beneath the point. A measured interval, a guessed distance, they surface in close proximity to a small boat fishing nearby. A dorsal fin, then tail; a tall fisher's tale to tell of the one that got away. Straight out, another pair performs. The water breached, a nose, a torso rises towering through the air, poises and drops, flops soundlessly, showering whale whacked water wide; moments later, flukes flail and slide below. A blow portends the next; a belly rolls, flippers wave greeting, grey and white. Sun higher now, the wind's white horses speckle the ocean's greys confusing searching eyes which seek the oily slick disturbance that marks the whale's whereabouts. As whales and time pass, we ponder whalebone, soap, oil, Melville, the whale song's airy silence, wombed dolphins and the porpoise's purpose. J Severn June 2001 Notes: First Point was named by Captain Cook when he dropped by, & Sydney's most prominent skyline feature is the Centrepoint tower. Also, Websters tells me 'dolphin' comes from the root gwelbh meaning womb, referring to its shape. thanks Josephine