IT WAITS

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It waits.

Currents of ice.

Splashes of salt.

Thrashes of rock.

It waits.

Swirling.

Circling.

Endless.

The water waits for me.

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A MERE REFLECTION?

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A reflection of perfection.

Better than the original?

It moves.

It shimmers.

It elongates.

It stretches.

Distorting the original.

A reflection.

ICY HOT

Ice Fire

 

Cold.

Icy cold.

My toes feel numb.

My fingers tingle.

The wind howls.

Sleep tempts me.

But I must continue

to the top of the hill.

The view waits for me.

Only a few more steps.

Silence wraps its arms around me.

I raise my face to the beauty.

The colors take my breath away.