Ice has broken up.
Wild river eats at edges
Of final ice-field.
Tide’s turned, running high.
Whitecaps and ferries race north.
Churning water’s gray.
Gull circles, swoops, lands.
He’s hoping for a handout.
I should have brought bread.
Ice has broken up.
Wild river eats at edges
Of final ice-field.
Tide’s turned, running high.
Whitecaps and ferries race north.
Churning water’s gray.
Gull circles, swoops, lands.
He’s hoping for a handout.
I should have brought bread.
All contents © 2021 SJ Rozan
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