The Morning Sting

One dull, summer Sunday morning
I went swimming in the bay'
on my back out to sea
gazing up at shredded clouds
like cotton wool
broken by jagged rents
of white, brilliant sunlight
peeping through.

I passed a yellow buoy
bumped into something lumpy
just beneath the surface
changed course
and began swimming back to shore
in a choppy swell
when stung by the lumpy thing,
a giant jellyfish.