Close Encounter

My brother and I took the rowing boat out across the bay. The sea was smooth, just a deep swell came rolling in, in long bars, from the North West. We rode the swells as we headed for the scarlet buoys that were bobbing near the reef on the far side. They shone out against the sombre greens and grays of water and light. 

I sat in the front, in readiness to grab a buoy and start to pull up a lobster pot. I could see the lasagna seaweed waving darkly, deep below us and shivered at my thoughts. On the shore line oyster catchers lamented at the rising tide and a sheep called out.

As we neared the first buoy, what we thought of as a swell became an inky black island that rose up from under us and let out a blast of air. We were so close we could see the blow hole. We could have leaned over and touched that oily black skin. A feathery excitement passed between us, though we dared not say a word. My brother held the oars up and the water ran off them, noisily, as we waited for something more to happen. The boat rocked, the water splashed off the oars, the oyster catcher continued it's song, but we were alone once more. The surface of the sea was smooth and secretive.

Later, as the evening was getting darker and we were nearing the last buoy, we heard that sound, of air shooting out of the blow hole, further away. The small whale was heading out to deeper waters. 

(Wordle words wet, sway, lost, sparks, oiled, feathery, inky, close, hole, scarlet, shoots.)