A dark shadow flies towards me –
too fast, too much intent
for another clump of seaweed.
Passing close, the ray pays me no heed,
as it soars below, rippling as it sweeps past.
I follow clumsily, hopelessly slow,
in this element my ancestors left behind.
The ray turns and passes again,
almost touching me now,
I feel the flow of its motion.
And again I follow,
but again am left behind,
looking after it,
aching with jealousy
for its beauty and grace,
its perfect, effortless, belonging.
Out of the Cave’s Mogo poems reminded me of this one, which I wrote a couple of summers ago about swimming with (or trying to swim with) a huge ray at South Durras, which is not far from Mogo.
anotherKate 
Wow, that’s an amazing experience I suppose. I can only imagine from your poetic description. Aren’t they dangerous though?
They don’t attack humans, so as long as you don’t threaten them or stand on them they’re okay. This was a really big black one, at least as big as any in this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3occSq11oM of people feeding them, so not one I was going to stand on accidentally. It’s the smaller, lighter coloured ones that people tend to get stung by accidentally.
Ohh I see!! That explains, it’s still so amazing to know. 😍
A stunning description of what sounds like an incredible experience! Swimming with a ray!
Thank you 🙂
relax
reflect
why and what did you elect to dectect?