One down the dune
Over the beach
To the edge
Of the glassy ocean
To go in.

The other —
Schools of mullets
Swim north to south
Like crimson clouds
In the glassy ocean.

We swim, too.
Close and closer
To the rippling
Surface — amazed, hoping
We might touch them,

At least one,
In layers on layers,
The thousands of
Delicate fins
And micro lips.

Slip a hand in,
Leap with a wave?
They pull away.
Noli me tangere.
Now we see

Shoals of them
Tightly loop around us,
Not quite in reach,
With everything to teach.