Michigan, February 18 2012

 (Sky unsettled)

 

I should never think

Of Shackelton at dinner

Or read of Scott, Perry,

And Amundsen

 

I look outside

The ice closes in

Gnashing the walls

As foundations groan under

The pressure

 

Thinking of the year

The journey

It seems my dogs are dead

And the men have lost faith in everything

But steel

 

I grip the window and stand

Splay-legged

Searching the horizon

For the coast

 

As the night falls back

I’ll stoke the fire

Draw close

And count my toes

 

Steven Vest lives and works in Alma Michigan with two children, one enormous dog and a very understanding wife. He wears many hats including librarian and professor and spends far too much time wishing he could see the ocean from his window.

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