There is a quiescent moment, a pause in the frantic, carnival rhythm of the reef during the daily transition from dark to light, light to dark. At the boundary between day and night one can sense a quick exhalation followed by a long breath as the new dancers take the stage. After sunset, gone are the gaudy parrotfish, wrasses, tangs, and damselfish. They are hidden deep within their fortresses of coral. There is a balance, an optimization, and perhaps a fairness in Nature as there is in Human engineering -- a keen perception of color and hue in the warm, sparkling, sunlit waters leaves the splendidly dressed denizens of the light blind in the dark, easy prey -- for it is they who go bump in the night if they venture forth from the safety of their resting sites.

Suspended in darkness we glided through the water to explore the reef at night by the beam of our torches, for we too are creatures of light and color. There! A hunting moray eel, it finds its prey by scent. And there, a myriad of big-eyed fish, red, where deep in the water red is black. But best of all, to me, is the odd-shaped spotted drum, black and white in a disruptive pattern, one moment there, next moment gone, blending then absorbed. Finally we turned off our lights and danced in the bright, but tiny explosions from startled algae, bioluminescent, our goodnight kiss from a blind date gone well, a brief moment with an exotic creature from a distant world, too wild to own, but I, a little in love, will dream of her in my next moment of darkness and blindness.