If it wasn’t for the Seals

If it wasn’t for the Seals

If it wasn’t for the seals laying on the gray sand
the sound of the ocean would be like white noise
piped by architects
to mask a private conversation.

200 yards away
shoals within the rock outcroppings,
thunder holes.
Trident’s domain.
Nature at war with itself.
The waves and the wind seek to claim the landscape
patiently collect their tithe, wear it away
an eight of inch per year.

Earless – and on land,
the seals barely hear the thunderclaps -
faint cannons in the distance.
Here – at a distance,
they fight their own silent battles,
bask in the sun.

With their five-digit webbed fins
flick sand upon their backs
to cool themselves,
lounging around flirting.

Quietly the young brown pelicans,
bide their time.
With the exuberance of youth
watch for the opportunity to dive to capture a meal
willing to test the limits of the sea
determine if the grass is really greener
on the underside of the glass ceiling.

I enjoy this visit on a June day.
Wonder if nature performs just for me,
whether the seals are as curious
about my unique visit
as I am appreciative of this setting
against which the sun nestles
in a near perfect cloudless blue sky.

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems,“I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95). Available on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/RayBrownAmazon or purchase an autographed copy at http://poet-ray-brown.com