Tuesday, Feb. 26th: Beach in Winter

Here is a draft of a poem I am working on about our beach by Lake Huron.  I don't feel like it is done yet, but it is my slice of life in that I am working on it, and it tries to capture an image memory from this month. 

In February 
the beach is movement 
stilled. 
Waves frozen in motion. 
Dunes that seem fixed, pinned by ice
but change every night. 
Under the relentless wind 
that speaks in a million languages,
silence presses on the dark 
cottage windows. 
It tucks itself in like the 
colorful chairs and 
umbrellas stacked in grey garages. 

In February
the beach is texture --
ice as sharp as jagged teeth and
ice as smooth and 
voluptuous as a body.