Ice Age

February 10, 2022

I feel the silent march of time

Like a glacier crawling, haltingly,

Toward an open and unknown sea,

The gulls’ joyful weeping haunting me

Under the wintry brilliance of sun

And the piercing sky. It calves, willingly,

This great white wall shedding free

Of its fatal burden, into a greater deep,

Crumbling with certainty, plunging

With purpose—and fully knowing

There’s a current still out there,

Meaning to bring me home.


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