Tag: Fractals

This curious thing:
A wall of white, approaching –
We are in retreat.

Ice wall advancing –
Erasing past and future –
The road not taken.

Ice melts, retreating-
Concrete eskers, black morraines –
Ruins, roads ~ ground ~ dust.

Melt waters, flowing –
Red bricks, lining fresh cold streams –
The deepest of clean.

[There is nothing new under the Sun]

He’s by the river –
Unaware, of detail, past –
The salmon, returned.

Click here for my speech introducing my friend Dave Walsh’s ‘The Cold Edge’ polar photography exhibition, including a reading of this poem.