Sea Ice

Tidal flow lifts, then drops, great sheaths of ice,
leaving giant slabs scattered over boulders
as the sea recedes. Shattered shards,
like milky white sea glass coated with winter's brine,
heavy and immobile, wait on salt flats for tide's turning.
Together, these pieces present a shoreline jigsaw
of sea ice buckling, suspended, not quite interlocking.

The act itself produces energy, thunderous noise,
transformation from one to many.
Solid ice, groaning under its own weight,
splinters with crystalline crashes, comes to rest
on ocean's floor only to resurrect at next tide.

A beginning can be similar with its elements of union
yet to be, barely hoped for. A wary dance in halls
of emotion, no dance card, no road map, just endless
stumbling in the heartland, sometimes wandering,
sometimes diverging, sometimes finding the way.

Not quite partners, each brings a heart
that buckles with rising hope, a heart
that settles as layers fall away, a heart
that eases as formality ebbs and comfort flows.
Energy is siphoned from each, combined, and
sent back out in rays of brilliant emotion.
Over and over, day after day, in a gradual knowing,
until high tide arrives and fingers interlock
into the familiarity of union.