Strange isn’t it? How the world works,
In trips and stumbles, jogs and jerks.
Things you expect with joy or dread,
Never land upon your head.
My friend and I climbed on the rocks,
In worn down shoes and tattered socks.
And, though with hope, we gazed to sea,
We never really thought we’d see,
And so we jumped and hopped and fell,
Across the beach and through the smell,
Of crusted salt and drying weed,
Almost forgetting our hope and need,
To see a dolphin.
But only when we were once more,
Back in the car, still near the shore,
Did I look up and out at sea,
And then I shouted out with glee:
More than one, they all swam past,
Each rising higher than the last.
Their fins as grey and white as sky,
There they went; gliding by.
We ran right to the water’s edge,
To video their pilgrimage.
Which we’d reveal for later gloating,
And the ceremonial noting,
Of “dolphins” in the visitors book.