Out of the silt
in a pointed stone
from the sand
on the ocean floor,
the bubbles rise.

Loving them too
much, I cannot
breathe, afraid to
disturb the delicate
progress of froth.

Astonished, the foam
spirals, its circular
ascent guards us all,
irregular and certain,
above and below.

seaweed and shocks
the white coral escort
each unexpected turn,
as we burst together
towards the surface.