Winter's Shore

Winter's Shore

White waves break,
slow,
cold.
The ocean is emerald beneath the horizon.
A black dog cavorts in mad glee through the ice floes.
Despite built in snowshoes
he slips,
and falls,
boundless energy
on a green white field.

Winter grips the land in his icy bowels.
Constricted,
restricted,
muffled in fleece,
shriveled by the bitter breeze whipping from the iced ocean,
my fingers freeze upon the leash.
I shudder beneath my layers
as the black dog throws his red maw at my face.
Delirious with joy in the strange landscape
he tries to consume everything in sight-
salty sea snow, the apples in my cheeks, his own tail.
He ricochets about, a furry missile,
a dangerous projectile tethered by a thin cord.

Black feathers fly over the soft white drifts
that hide the sand we were banished from in the golden summer.
The lifeguard feared the dog's eighty pounds of enthusiasm
would wreak havoc amongst the tourists,
the town's lifeblood brought coursing to the surface
by the beckoning sun.

But winter's shore is ours.
He barks fearsomely at a lone stranger.
"Get thee gone!" he bellows.
"Get off my world while I am here!" he roars.
"Come closer, that I may taste of you and decide whether you are good!" he shouts.
I know the truth,
that he is more tree than animal-
all bark, no bite.
Indeed, were my own safety threatened,
I'm not sure if he would stand and defend,
or lend a helping paw in my demise.

White waves roll,
whispering of infinity.