A blue eye stares out to its match,
Pushing and pushing with heaving breaths.
A light fog settles, a smooth cotton, shrouding the pink shores,
Where otters and oysters roosted against whipping arms.
One otter diving for food, surfacing with presumably salmon with a flailing tail, bobbing like a buoy among waves.
Ocean pushing harder, drawing the moon's power,
Whipping rocks, mouth watering minty foam, salty mist courses the air,
Of overwhelming energy, a wild sensation, unforgiving, boastful.
Old otter flops onto high rock, eating a well deserved kill, finishes, tosses bones into the infuriated ocean, and
Runs back to its companions of proof the ocean had no fins.
