Winter on the beach

Cold to the bone and our faces sculptured
By drifting sand as we walk ( one way or another,
We shall be having the wind at our backs later on.)

Silent, silently threading unknown ground,
heading for a point of return:
Here, all seems simple enough. We do this far from home

Because the reward will be warmth and shelter in the end.
Because we feel alive in the death of this season.
Under our feet the sand is frozen cement.

Silent. Silence is following us back to the car,
an uninvited guest, stepping in. Becomes our friend.
Your sculptured face defrosting as we drive.

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Comments on: "Winter on the beach" (20)

  1. beechdey said:

    Reblogged this on Beechdey’s Weblog.

  2. Beautiful Ina, I could feel the wind chill. Hope you enjoyed the warm on your return ❤️ Xxx

    • Hi Christine, thank you 🙂 This poem was a bit a mixture of two walks on the beach actually. One in silence and one in cold 🙂 and yes it was nice to be in a warm car! ❤ xxx

  3. Most evocative, the cold against the promise of warmth especially nice. Line 10. My favorite, but the whole poem exceptional. One word suggestion: line 3, I think “the wind AT our backs” would be more appropriate.

    • Hi David, thank you very much, also for the correction. I suppose having wind in one’s back means something entirely different 🙂

  4. That is lovely, Ina. One of your finest. (“at” is probably better)

  5. I always envy your ability to use imagery this way 🙂

  6. Ina this is so beautiful!

  7. Oh! Oh! Oh! This is a very special one!

  8. Few people can create an atmosphere like you do. I could feel the chill, and wondered how you were feeling on your walk. How was life treating you ?

    • Thank you very much Peter. They were 2 walks with 2 different people actually, and both very different. I suppose it matter with whom you are, and if you are in silence or in chatter. Life is a bit difficult lately, perhaps that shows in the poems.

  9. You are becoming even a better poet with “Winter on the Beach,” Ina. What makes this is the music, which complements the images of winter on the beach. The repetition of
    “Silent, silently” and “Silent. Silence” is key to making the music. It sets a refrain in the reader’s mind. The poem is also a story that ends up in joy:
    “Your sculptured face defrosting as we drive.”
    The joy therefore becomes part of the music.
    Poetry does not really come any better than this.

  10. So lovely again, {{{Ina}}}. That’s one thing I love about winter and the cold – the rewards of the warmth that greets one ‘within’. And I can say that even after, and in the midst, of the harshest coldest winter my area has had in almost a decade. There is music in your words. XO ❤

  11. Thank you {{{ Diane}}} I hope it will get warmer over there soon! ❤ xxx

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