Heaven and the sea collide.

No matter the dull day.

The head wind from the north.

Unwashed face.

Yesterday’s clothes.

Inexperienced muscles on the paddle.

We glimpse the smooth rounded backs.

Blowing hard as they surface.

One - two - three, joined by others.

Not bothered by our tiny craft.

And again, they rise

running towards us and away.

The joy for us at our close encounter.

The other dimension

where our hearts lie and breathe.

Our canoe silenced.

They, intent on their task.

We paddle on.