above the dam open water shows
below a million-bubble rim where
ice holds
what flows
tumbles to tumult below, ice
sculpts smooth stone, frosts
evergreens
hot coffee
drills a brown hole in white water
a lamp’s glow carves a bowl
as sun does noon to two
in Iceland’s
dim December snow falls
unseen, gray ghost patterns
sea-bashed rocks
where
are the gulls that blacken
June’s solstice? in January’s
dark days
where do eiders go?
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