D J Cawood

A full moon floods the landscape
with pristine light.
Stars pockmark an indigo sky.
West winds howl relentlessly,
sweep down the valley across the lake.

Restless,
I pull on a turtleneck and jeans,
slip into my Siwash
and head down the trail
past silver-grey wolf willows.
The still-frozen lake draws me
like a lemming
to the sandy cliff edge.

A vast network of silver blue fissures
heave and groan –
crevassed arteries, yearn to burst free.
Undercurrents rush beneath
desperate to break through the great slab.
A wrenching, grinding crack signals
the break-up.

Captivated, mesmerized
by its beauty and turmoil,
I wait
for the inner rush of emotions
to release my frozen being.