Nunavut

Say the names, say the names

Iqaluit, Pangnirtung, Qikiqtarjuac,

Remember  summers, walking on soft tundra
feet fashioning themselves around rocks
and the scent of flowers

Say
Grise Fiord, Resolute, Kugluktuk

Remember winter, the long twilight,
snow crunching underfoot,
silence except  for the sea's breath
under the ice

Say
Gjoa Haven, Igloolik, Rankin Inlet

Remember glaciers, ice burgs, mountains,
polar bear, whales, and seal
snow mobile and canoe

Say the name
Nunavut

Don't let memories fade



Ellecee

Inspired by today's prompt from

imaginary garden with real toads

For

What to do?

I’ve walked this

street one hundred

times before

breathed deeply

the scent of cherry

blossoms in spring,

the cool fall breeze

has caressed my skin

as fallen leaves rustled

at my feet.

Through winter wonderlands

and summer heat, sultry and

moist, 

I have walked here

Then  I met you,

a chance encounter

you were lost, walking down

the wrong street, looking for

the wrong house, not my house;

You smiled at me, reached out

and touched my arm;

Destiny sang, karmic, cosmic,

coincidences collided in colours

of every hue

What to do?

What to do?

"ellecee"

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

The Tuesday Platform

Day 26

Small Cracks

Small cracks

I waver on the edge
and ask myself
How deep is it?
this fiord beneath my feet
The crack is narrow
the ice has pushed up
on both sides
The tide
showing of its strength
This seems to be a
habit of mine
Teetering on the edge of
small cracks
Places where others

simply stretch their legs

and walk over

I am such a timid bird

embarrassed that 

with all my strength

I'm not an eagle

soaring off

a real precipice

and

drifting down

into a real

canyon

"ellecee"

Are You There

If you only look on the surface

nothing moves here in winter

The thick ice seems dead and silent

The snow never melts

But when you walk on the ice

you see it differently

The ice is blue or green in the places

where gases are trapped within

Deep cracks appear

forced openings from the continuing

pressure of daily tides

The ice breaths as you walk

subtle and ghostly as if it is alive

under your feet

Steam rises from the crevices

The snow crunches underfoot

There are tiny tracks made by

some animal searching for food

If you listen closely the silence

is broken by the sound of the sea's breath

or the scratching of tiny feet on the

crust of the snow

If you only look on the surface

nothing moves here in winter

but when you walk on the ice

You see it differently.

 "ellecee"

Old Moon

The old half moon still

showing in a cloudless sky

tides slowly turn