Message in a Bottle

I knew their voices
at first light.
Welling from the deep –
whale prayers.
Revival meeting-
a salt water tent.

Elegant bodies,
roll with geyser breath,
nest in underwater
moss-
The Mother wakes them.
They could plunge their
toes in her muddy coat
if they had feet.

They do
have low,
rumbling song.

I wake
to their voices returning,
move in unison,
weighted, fluid,

swimming in the soup
of Saratoga,
the Salish Sea.