Silver scales sink in emerald sea
remains of battle, survivors flee
like sunlit rain in forest silent
spiraling down, bottomward sent.
Hungry mouths do now not seek,
tasty flashes. . . the slow, the weak.
No markers note their quiet passing.
except filled bellies, now not fasting.
[I wrote this after watching a nature program on the sea, which featured a segments about tuna attacking a school of sardines.]