A.W.O.L.

No breeze And yet across the bay A patch of flutter comes. A mackerel ballet In martial zig-and-zag review Is passing by. When suddenly Behind a foundling swell A ballerina Pressure tempers water with her tail And springs. She slips. And dips To spill one arc into the sky. A flicker in the light She marks with lacy white A spot that's hers alone, And dives To join once more her ranks. While in the pit I grab a rock To fling And make her dance again.