Flying Fish.

The sun set pink tonight.  It drenched the sky, it reflected from the water, and it saturated the air in between.  It was so pink, you could feel it.  It was a heavy, rich pink.
Meanwhile, on the water, fish began to fly.  They lifted out of the sea like the Loch Ness monster, first a back, then a shimmering tail, slicing through the water with grace, a fluid being.  But wait, there were hundreds, thousands of fish making up this gliding monster.  They sailed through the air, barely individuals now, silver, glinting.  The water parted way for them, allowed this creature of creatures to emerge, submerge, appear again, taking my breath.  I kept waiting for the show to end, for the magic spell to be broken, but they appeared here, by the dock, and there, near the boats.  Thousands of fish, leaping on cue, the sea’s equivalent of migrating birds changing course.
I imagined that a ripple of music followed them, a silvery glint of sound dancing across the water.  But behind me, in the trees overhanging the jungle road, the locusts had just struck up their screeching evening song.
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One Response to Flying Fish.

  1. Sheila says:

    Absolutely stunning visual imagery! I’ve always been mesmerized by the artistic beauty of flocks of birds, moving in a seemingly erratic manner, but somehow flowing gracefully together, weaving back and forth, up and down. Your image of the fish doing likewise is great!

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