Floaters

There were turtles every morning,
tumbling in the surf
as it crashed against the reefs.
Floating above and beside them,
we were all slaves to the spitting waves.

All but one, who wanted not to join in.
It hid from the bubbling rays of the sun,
below on the sand beneath a jutting rock.
Now and then, just to take stock,
it peeked out to spy on the floaters nearby.

A sympathetic smile before cresting away,
taking the splashing noise and goggly eyes,
we rode the current to other joys
and swayed for a little while more
before saying our goodbyes.