by Andrew Williams
As thunder rumbles from the nimbus overhead,
a northern Fulmer wings its way over the glassy
glacial giant. The frozen mammoth levitates
above the ocean floor, glistening a deep aquamarine.
Though blue bolts from heaven touch down,
waves whump, and waftings slap the shore,
the solid magic carpet floats at its own pace,
unmoved by the whirling cone of grayish haze.
Yet through the dimness I still see the clowns
of the sea waddling by the cliffs, the humpbacks
high-fiving the startled seaway, and a familiar
figure as a colossal wave holds up a mirror.
About the author:
Andrew Williams is a poet living In Pennsylvania, USA. He has been been published in various magazines and journals such as The BeZine Quarterly, Briefly Zine, Fevers of the Mind, Ink Sweat & Tears, Red Eft Review, Trouvaille Review, among others. He is also the editor of East Ridge Review, a poetry review platform. Twitter: @eastridgereview
More by the author includes At Dawn.
Photo: Sunrise by Erato via Wombo