There is a time of day
when the sea frothing over the reef
a falls of foam into a sheltered pool
becomes lit from the side
by the extravagance of the reclining sun
so that a swimmer
stretching through the blue shallows
hand overhand over hand
is enveloped in soft sudden sparkling
blinking popping disorientation
delicious prickling of wee bubbles
everywhere gentle and elegant detonations
fluid bright sparks
and now must decide
whether to stop and be rocked
and wait until you can see again
or go on literal blind and fizzy faith
follow the fish’s tail in front of you
into the mystery that could hold anything
the one that glints gorgeous and gold
in every direction.
