Do dolphins envy our ability to simply breathe,
to take air in and out without thinking,
without staying close to the surface?
Swimming with languid power,
graceful and fluid and joyful,
do they ever begrudge the need
every so often, to slip upward and break through
the air/sea boundary, exhale and take another breath
over and over—always scanning,
but with alert minds, aware of everything—
for an entire lifetime?
Do dolphins envy our unintentional breathing?
Or is envy just one of our monkey traits?
Something a few million years of oceans
have imposed on them,
to be able to race the sailboats,
surf the wakes of ocean liners
and wreak havoc on the silvery schools of
panicked herring.
Then, sated, playful,
swift when necessary, comes that sheer joy to
glide like arrows through a blue eternity, like gods,
Thinking, always, of the air
And those brief glimpses of burning fire,
and stars and thoughtless breathing.
Poet's Corner 