At Sea
It’s autumn in the Mediterranean; summer has passed and there is now moisture in the air carried by deliciously cool breezes. Not so cool as to dissuade sunbathing, the sun is bright, and it’s certainly not too cool as to spoil a quick dip in the pool. The day is pleasant for a stroll about the deck, pleasant for a book, pleasant to stare out at a gentle sea. Not a flat sea, a gentle sea: rocking, rippled and incredibly colored. It’s blue and most good things are too. It’s a rich blue, a deep blue. It’s a liquid blue of pure, clean salt water. That’s it, just water with little obvious signs of life. When I look hard enough and long enough, I can see through it, this strangely transparent blue, until all is darkness like black velvet seen through sapphire. What’s down there, in the darkness? Perhaps the fabled kraken, but more likely simple things, smaller things, yet too, some odd, unexpected things. A creature with flowing red hair, perfect white flesh -- a mermaid, seductive and coy that quickly vanishes like a dream I so wanted to remember. No, not this time, it’s a worm, a fan worm. Its ‘hair’, tentacles, feathery traps for small creatures and detritus. It’s white flesh a tube, secreted, much as a clam makes a shell, a place to hide, a secret place for protection. Our presence sensed is like a scream, “Fear this little one!” and it vanishes in less than a blink of an eye. But soon it returns to gently sway, to help clean the water, to make its blue, a deep, pure blue.
It’s autumn in the Mediterranean; summer has passed and there is now moisture in the air carried by deliciously cool breezes. Not so cool as to dissuade sunbathing, the sun is bright, and it’s certainly not too cool as to spoil a quick dip in the pool. The day is pleasant for a stroll about the deck, pleasant for a book, pleasant to stare out at a gentle sea. Not a flat sea, a gentle sea: rocking, rippled and incredibly colored. It’s blue and most good things are too. It’s a rich blue, a deep blue. It’s a liquid blue of pure, clean salt water. That’s it, just water with little obvious signs of life. When I look hard enough and long enough, I can see through it, this strangely transparent blue, until all is darkness like black velvet seen through sapphire. What’s down there, in the darkness? Perhaps the fabled kraken, but more likely simple things, smaller things, yet too, some odd, unexpected things. A creature with flowing red hair, perfect white flesh -- a mermaid, seductive and coy that quickly vanishes like a dream I so wanted to remember. No, not this time, it’s a worm, a fan worm. Its ‘hair’, tentacles, feathery traps for small creatures and detritus. It’s white flesh a tube, secreted, much as a clam makes a shell, a place to hide, a secret place for protection. Our presence sensed is like a scream, “Fear this little one!” and it vanishes in less than a blink of an eye. But soon it returns to gently sway, to help clean the water, to make its blue, a deep, pure blue.
