Not a haiku but what I came up with:

In New Moon darkness
I sit on a dock 
listening to unseen sea creatures jumping in the bay:
plop, plop, plop.

Softly they splash all night,
the same as the first fish, 
as the ancestral fish of billions of years ago.

In primordial salt water, 
under the stars, 
Time began.

Long before I came to be
with fish plopping unseen 
in salt water,
Time started ticking forward.

The fish, sea and stars 
will continue 
in their slow procession onward
long after I have come to pass.

crescent moon
barely audible
buoy bell
— Holly Wren Spaulding

I am drawn to this haiku because it is so short, so few words, so crisp and to the point. It transports me instantly:

In this haiku I notice that there are only two things mentioned: the moon and the sound of a bell. But when those things are put together they illicit in my memory sitting on a dock, sea wind, salt water spray, fog, night, a moon and a barely audible buoy bell.

Reading this haiku I experience an extreme memory flash of calm, serene, relaxed sitting in the night on a dock. There is no mention of the ocean, water or any of this but it is assumed, inferred by the presence of the buoy that there is water of some sort. For me the memory is sea water.