Pier

My place: to the right of the L-shaped pier,
wherever the water is breast-high. I've walked
against the wind's edges, warmed myself;
stepping into lime-cordial green
I nerve myself too, aware the sea must
throw me a surprise sometime; but not today…
Seaweed bobs and torpedoes past — benign
dream fragments. Suddenly, a dark mass
I approach is out beyond the pier
as if sucked by a vacuum, sweeps further
upriver in this perilous tide.
A short swim under wind-burnished clouds;
before leaving, I too bask in the spot
chosen by the shy, elegant manta.