<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div style="text-align: left; margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class=""><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;" class="">Dia de Amor: Magdalena Bay</span></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); min-height: 18px;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class=""><b class=""></b></span><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class=""><br class="">
Red streaked dawn across sun spattered waves<br class="">
wind in our faces,<br class="">
Panga boats bounce ahead toward deeper water.<br class="">
<br class="">
They say the blow<br class="">
of the gray whale<br class="">
looks like a heart,<br class="">
a spray of love so delicate<br class="">
it bursts into flares of passion<br class="">
nurturing<br class="">
a steadily burning warmth.<br class="">
<br class="">
We approach them slowly,<br class="">
these gray whales,<br class="">
engaging in the heaving dance<br class="">
on the sea</span></div><div style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class=""><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;" class="">of boat and beings.<br class="">
<br class="">
Barnacled down their backs<br class="">
rising hugely,<br class="">
white filigree on shining thick black skin,<br class="">
rolling in blue water,<br class="">
grace in their mountainous girth.<br class="">
<br class="">
Heads raising from the bay<br class="">
glancing into our eyes,<br class="">
penetrating to our very core.<br class="">
<br class="">
Swimming beneath the boat,<br class="">
nudging the keel playfully,<br class="">
rising to blow with abandon.<br class="">
<br class="">
Closing between us<br class="">
they invite our hand to skin<br class="">
for an eternal moment,<br class="">
drowning in the swell of joined connection,<br class="">
knowing our deeper selves<br class="">
seen and blessed.<br class="">
<br class="">
Two diverse beings<br class="">
neither suffocating the other<br class="">
into an indistinguishable confluent cocoon,<br class="">
nor drawing separately far apart,<br class="">
the gossamer line between<br class="">
linking hearts<br class="">
stretches and silently kisses.<br class="">
<br class="">
Rumi says:<br class="">
wash our eyes with awe.<br class="">
<br class="">
Tears of thanks,<br class="">
I am a native of this Earth's oceans<br class="">
once again.<br class="">
<br class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Alan Cohen</span></div></div>
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