Beyond my Expression

It was like the clouds had fallen from the sky and frozen to the sea shore.
Cumulus, wispy, swirling, curling, white as snow and frozen to the core.
Walking, stomping, running, jumping, laughing on a cloud.
The clouds just frozen solid to the beach, still silent and loud.

So I look to the sky to where they are supposed to be.
And yet another genesis greets me.
The early afternoon was dark – dark and bright.
Lucid, fluorescent, neon, but strangely a dark sight.
A sky with dark wisps of bright blue.
Speckled with stretches of elongated purples and oranges too.
I know it was clouds, but not one could be seen in this strangeness.
Overhead was simply a fixation of moving stillness.
It was the dawn of a naturally unnatural nothingness.

Back to the ice under my feet, that’s fascinating me.
And to the wavelets that are rolling and crashing from the sea.
Creating a Tolkien of cascading slush.
A rice terrace of middle earth freezing into mush.
Sounding like a crystal vase smashing against a tiled floor, bouncing far and wide.
I listen to the leopard skin of ice flow in on the tide.
Iceberg after iceberg jostling for the shore.
Packing down a front row as they meld and weld into those who got there before.

It’s the Baltic and it’s freezing.
And on my memory it is impressing.
As it sojourns on its pointless mission.
It gives me beauty beyond my expression.
Beauty, wonderful beauty, beauty without reason.
Flowing in and out on the season.

Beauty.
Beauty.

Beauty.

This poem will be featured in my up-coming book with the working title of ‘Byways, Alleyways and Cobblestones’. The poem was written a few winters ago and the photo was taken this week.

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