Begin with solitude.
Vast depths of mysterious, cold, undulating water
There are things in the water – living things.
Rise above the water.
There are things in the fog – living things.
The fog begins to lift, slowly revealing…
Jagged, raw, snow-covered.
The water sparkles in the sunlight.
The breeze picks up, and the tide comes in.
The mountains grow larger and more imposing.
The cold wind and the hot sun and the living water
Draw you inexorably toward…
A fin of ice peels off and plunges into the sea with primordial tumult.
Then another – this one snapping off like a crack of thunder.
The cold water dances and churns with joy,
As if a prophesy has been fulfilled.
Clouds move in and the tide turns.
As you move out toward the sea, fog descends again, then rain.
Whales call mournfully in the deeps as the mountains are shrouded.
Then you are gone,
And only the water remains.
Written July, 2012
South Sandy Cove
Glacier Bay National Park