Poetry by Karen Carter
Do ocean waves just appear
or enjoy being seen?
I want to see them.
I need their balm
like a baptism drenching dry bones.
I sit outdoors,
writing on the deck,
so near the coastal sea
I see the waves’ breaking tops,
the splash of sea water
on the shore, a spray,
foaming bubbles,
like new energy
bursts on the scene,
in my head.
I soak in their wash.
But something else is going on.
I strain to see.
In front of the waves,
a pyramid-shape point,
shiny dorsal fins appear.
A dolphin leaps
out of the water,
turns a flip
in the air.
A chain forms,
these Bottlenose Dolphins,
this group of marine mammals,
sharing social skills.
They swim so fast
I dare not blink.
Now they are gone
but not from memory.
They will come back.
But I must leave
tomorrow.
What do I carry?
Perhaps
a New Year’s resolution,
a dolphin’s greeting.
Is this propelling creature
a sign, symbol—good
luck, harmony—dare
I say, joy?
Karen Carter is a poet, writer, and educator. She presently teaches high school English and Creative Writing. Many poems in her debut collection, Deep Dive, (Querencia Press, 2024), have appeared previously in anthologies and literary journals. She lives in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. For more information, visit www.KarenCarterPoetry.com
