My approach to the paddock is like that
of a sailboat to its mooring - cautious, deliberate.
Orchard grass like eel grass bending, dancing around
four Great Whites thrashing their tails,
baring teeth, competing for nourishment.

Black eyes in the setting sun roll backward
I see flashes in their eyes mocking the sunset.
Great white bodies dappled with reflected colors
yellow, orange, green and blue
twirling and positioning themselves around me, their prey.

I toss their grain like I would an anchor in a storm
hoping to catch the bottom where waters lie still —
through the eel grass, past these great white bodies
that spin and cause waves of their own.
I watch great white heads dive to what sustains them.

Soon, full bellies will make them calm.
They'll swim silently and carelessly through the orchard grass
no longer posturing and fighting each other.
I feel safe watching their eyes at dusk,
eyes that are black, sleepy, satisfied.

Th sun sinks below the horizon.
The paddock is behind me, settled and quiet.
I walk over stones on the path
stones smooth and voiceless like pebbles on the beach.
I am content the Great Whites are satisfied.