Maybe there wasn’t thousands
of little caterpillars back then
little whales
back when they got into water and flew
maybe the purple strokes of sky
were the same sun spots
on the rippled back of the whale
the summer day it spread
its wings out for the first time
waved towards the prey
yellowy scales on a whaly night
a complementary orgy
of velvetly dimensions

From the poetry collection “Soil & life“