SPARK

Brian MacDonald
Response

Elizabeth Cordes
Inspiration piece

Snow falls about gently
like dandelion seeds
in a warm spring breeze.
It seems impossible
from a cloudless sky.

A misty red along the horizon
fades upward
into pink, purple,
then a blue so deep
you would wish to see stars.

But there are none.
There is no sun,
no moon.
There is no glare
off the ice
that surrounds me for eternity
in all directions.

A wooden fishing pole,
a line, a hook,
and myself,
bundled in my parka and mittens.
I crouch over a tiny hole and
drop the line down.

Is there life beneath
this frozen wasteland?
There is no passage of time,
no sense of waiting.
There is only ice,
and the immeasurable distance
between me
and the rest of the universe.

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