Whales

Molly Herring

It’s a Massachusetts thing, they say
To sit in your car
In the beach parking lot
How odd, I think
To drive somewhere wild
But shelter behind dunes and scraggle grass
To stay just out of reach of the waves
As they ferry in disturbances from open water and other lands
As they spit out the winds they’ve swallowed and swished for thousands of miles
As they put down the things they carry
And scatter their burdens on strange shores

But I’ll try anything once
So I drive to the beach
Park
Sit in my car
Behind dunes and scraggle grass 
Bear my Virginia license plate
And burdens from other lands
Lamenting
Not comprehending 
Not putting down the things in my hands 

A car pulls in 
Right next to me in the mostly empty beach parking lot
I curse them
For knowing something I don’t
For driving to the beach 
Just to park 
And sit in their car

A woman at the wheel
A man at her side
She turns 
Smiles
He pops the door
Steps out
Peers at me through my dark window
(Upset)
With caution, takes a step
Bears his hands, they are empty
Hi, he blurts
I crack my door
(Wary)
Hi?
(Face wet)
We’re not from around here
He smiles, Excuse me
(Skittish)
We just drove by and wondered what everyone is doing 
Sitting in the beach parking lot
He turns to the waves
Tilts his head
Watches them 
Release the peace and threat they carry
Are we waiting for something?
His eyes shine
His face open
Familiar
Where are you from? 
Virginia, he lilts

I smile
Wipe my face 
Um
I look out, too
Our gazes connect in the dark
Whales 
I tell him
(It just tumbles out)
Not a silhouette to be seen
If you watch long enough 
You might see whales

The Science

Marine waves are primarily generated by two natural forces: the wind and distant weather systems. Most commonly, waves form when wind blows across the surface of the ocean, transferring energy to the water through friction. The longer and stronger the wind blows over a stretch of open water, the larger the waves that are produced, a process known as wind fetch. In other cases, offshore storms, including rainstorms and low-pressure systems, can disturb the ocean's surface, creating swell waves that radiate outward in all directions. These waves travel vast distances across the ocean basin, sometimes even thousands of miles, gaining coherence and momentum, until they eventually arrive on shorelines, where they rise, curl, and break, reshaped by the contours of the seabed and the pull of the tides.

I work at the Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole, a hub of basic biology, biomedicine and environmental science. Cape Cod is situated between warm and cold-water currents, which churn out unique physical dynamics and a distinct smattering of marine life. I am drawn to the intersections between the hard sciences and human experience, and try to connect people not only with the water itself, but all it sustains. To me, science is not only about data and mechanisms, but also emotion, memory, and meaning. It is important to humanise science, to understand that everything we learn is colored by the lens of its context, and to describe not just how the planet works in terms of physical dynamics, but also why those processes matter to us. This poem describes an encounter I had shortly after moving to the Cape. I hope it offers a glimpse of that connection and helps illustrate why so many of us are drawn to the sea: calmed and challenged by it, and, in some way, made whole by its presence.

The Poet

Molly Herring (she/her) is a science writer living on Cape Cod, Massachusetts, in the United States. She can often be found face down in a tide pool.

Next poem: A Quantum Theory of Grief by Laura Urban Perry