The clouds draw back and steel-white yields to new gold.
Sand that had solidified into rough concrete starts to crumble back into grains.
Waves form mounting regiments as far out as the horizon and advance.
Suggestions of blue wash below their white foam
And curl onto the beach, disintegrating over hills of gleaming ice they made of their own muted thunder through long, cold months.
New wind blows them in, one that today promises hot sand leaking up radiant between grateful toes
and cool, welcome water on bare, grateful legs.
Today, visitors pull parkas tight against wind that still carries winter’s learned chill,
But the big lake is never quiet.
It won’t hide its constant churn the way smaller ones do,
The way even rivers ice over, acquiescing to winter’s dominion.
Yes, Persephone weeps below and the earth mourns, temporarily subdued, life and motion stolen, but not here.
Here defiant water still moves,
Resisting winter’s seasonal death,
Resilient.
Leading the way to renewal.
Already still-cold water begins to wash away the frozen mounds of its own making.
The earth’s arc veers again back toward the sun.
I stand and watch, not moving, but flying through space,
Remembering that even a long winter can’t stop this dance.
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