A Medusa's calling…

As its translucent body rings-out
Under an unheard, jet propulsion...
Question; does it cast shadows?
Does its prey know of an answer?

To this rhythmic, Medusa's calling
Is it a death squad of little stings?
Why is it they, avoid shadows?
Contracting in the sun's arrows…

Why does a bell without a gong?
Cause such alarm just wearing,
A sarong, swimming, vertically,
Diligently, towards the rising sun.

Why do they disguise themselves?
As a millpond ripple is it in order
That we shall ignore their riddle?
And, think them an innocent suspect.