just before bedtime, we drive into

killer whales in two pods

from different origins

having met to mate

(two to three dozen in all)

they take a break from copulation

and stay an hour to play

criss-crossing under-bow

belly sometimes up, sometimes down

curious as our squeals are of them

so many their spouts rival wave-caps

seeing a super-pod is patently such a rarity

that even our usually unflappable expedition leader, Lisa,

hops from starboard to port muttering “it’s insane”

other journeyers generally less restrained to start

issue an unending stream of excitations

no matter

this night

this sight

is so awesome

one condones

inevitable americanisms