The Sea Chaser

Written during a crossing of the Irish Sea, 2012

Low, grey waves separate them.

The harpoonist closes in,

eager to feel the meat,

the thrill of the chase,

the dance with danger,

meeting the mind of the beast,

snarling, gasping, thrashing about.

Daring him to give up.

The chaser takes his time this time.

Circles around

savouring the moment

gently easing back the mechanism...

Waiting..

easy..

Waiting for the perfect -

- Suddenly it's all over!

In an impossible flash

the tension is equalised;

the victor, victorious,

the vanquished, vanquished.

The chaser unperturbed

as the boat falls silently

through the slate blue depths

and gently into folklore.