troon, snow covered beach january 2010
1914 - 1918
it's a new feeling
the squishy crunch of dry snow
beneath my soles
each footstep creates
a mark, an imprint
on the virgin white
easier to follow
where a thousand other feet
have beaten a path
the impact of foot fall
making the soft solid
still white, not gritted
the salt and grit
have come and gone
run out, used up
to keep britain running
we know how to deal with rain
but this white ...
snow
now that is an experience
it does come at times
and leaves as quick
scarce bothering to sit and wait
until now
weeks of cold white
not even black ice
only white
as far as the eye can see
i walk as do so many others
along the promenade
no clouds, no rain, no wind
big sky clear and cold
red sun slipping away
beyond the far horizon
britannia stands
high on her plinth
watching over the snow bleached beach
the bounding dogs
and determined walkers
one arm raised
feathered quill in hand
the other hand holds a small angel
in memory of those who fell
beyond our seas
1914 - 1918
Copyright © 2004-2010 by Eryll Oellermann
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