Sealwatching

We got close
that near-perfect morning -
the distance between us
across the deck of the boat.

(a mile from shore -
far enough from sight)

Stepping onto the sandbank,
I offered my hand - but you
jumped instead.

We walked on the edge - the sand
oozing between our toes, my
feet tracing yours print for print.

In the windless sun we stood,
shadows apart, watching
their hesitant bodies -
beautiful in a different way -
as they flopped and bobbed
down the dunes to the sea.

Idly, I speculated their facility
for coupling.

Almost close enough to touch.
But not.