Winter Sculptures

Peter D. Goodwin

Once, not so long ago, after days of cold 
there would be large blocks of ice on the river, 
six or more inches thick, as large as dining room tables, 
piled on top of themselves, and on the shore

rubbed up on each other by the rhythm of the current
and of the tides, beautiful sculptures that glistened 
in the sun, that moved and sang, talking to the river,
complaining about the wind, pleading for a little rest,
sweet twinkles, rough gutturals,
a beautiful and eerie winter chorus,
tide and current  heaving and twisting them, 
moving them upstream and a few hours later, 
moving them downstream, continuously recreating 
these sculptures, twisting and remodeling them, 
ziggurats or igloos, abstract arrangements of ice,
light and air, and sometimes the relentless water
pushes this art of ice onto shore, scraping
and collecting sand and stones or taking them back
to the middle of the river, the river taking back its own,—
ice and art as ephemeral as spirit—

Now, as our winters warm
there is no winter display of sculptural
creation, only transitory thin crust of ice, 
nothing more.

Peter D. Goodwin, Teacher, traveller, playwright, poet, celibate or married and points in between, Peter Goodwin was raised and educated in USA and UK, settled in New York City enjoying its vibrant clutter until priced out of the City and now lives mostly near the Chesapeake Bay, becoming a reluctant provider to squirrels, deer, raccoons, birds and mosquitoes, etc.

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