Ice-Wave

The wave curls over,
a piece of sea-glass, hard and ceramic
blown with the salty sea-spray.

The glacier sheets evolve with the moon –
her lunar inconsistencies, her nightly mood swings.
Tonight’s temperament is phlegmatic

Cold and sickly,
wet and unpleasantly froggy:
that terrible, throaty influenza itch

The slushy foam is tulle.
The sky observes it in turmoil
It is that time of year again:

Nature, embroiling,
brought to a boil.

1 thought on “Ice-Wave”

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