Today, beauty, unbidden, beckoned.  
I sailed beside a pod of thirty or more whales.
Their breaching was beyond wonderful.
Sometimes, in pairs, their giant bodies 
surged vertically from the water 
and in descent, twisted sideways 
or fell backwards to loud slap 
into the welcoming swells 
in a wall of white spray and foam.  
Other times, they merely rose 
a little above the water, opened their blowholes 
and exhaled a stream of vapor-filled air. 
A female with a calf swam close.  
She kept her body between her calf and me. 
She lay on her side and stared, 
her eye meeting mine, curious, 
making connection beyond explanation. 
The wind filled my sail, 
the sun shone and water sparkled.
We moved in unison through the waves. 
Then, understanding her calf was safe, 
the pair began to play, circling my boat, 
diving under, emerging on the other side,
even nudging it when the wind died 
so that I could no longer maintain pace.
Finally, realizing that I was now too slow, 
they, in leisurely motion, swam away.

A wave of pure joy swept into my heart 
and carried me along with them. 
I shouted out loud 
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
They had spoken to me of beauty and playfulness, 
of connection, relationship and the wonder of living.
I sailed on with a heart made stronger. 
The burden I carried —
my fears for Miriam, the ache I felt for Elizabeth, 
my isolation on the lonely of the sea, 
the visions of Antoinette, the horror of Nemey —
was, at least for this moment, 
lightened by the buoyancy of the whales.