by Ethel Mortenson Davis
In the cold winters
around the Great Lakes,
ice moves
in constant, fluid motion
making cracking sounds,
thundering sounds
as ice heaves against ice,
shelf against shelf,
sending echoes out,
across a cold, stiff night,
that sound like a war
being waged,
like someone shooting off cannons
in some distant place.
She is telling us
she is still here;
she is still alive!
fourwindowspress 
Oh I do love this Ethel! And Im loving your book too 😊. You show perfectly how less can definitely be more.
Thank you for your comment Christine and for reading the book. Ethel
A reminder that we are tiny creatures within a vast and majestic scenery.
Yes very tiny. Ethel
A beautiful poem. The sound of ice, lovely. Also the sound of a ship going through ice, that cracking… 🙂
Living through it is the problem. Ethel
A cracking poem in a natural settings.
Ha…. a good comment. Ethel
Thanks and regards.
My pleasure.
Thanks and regards
Excellent poem, Ethel – I can hear the cracks of the “cannons” as the ice shifts. Reminds us that all of Gaia is still alive, constantly letting us know with its quakes, volcanoes, storms, landslides….