A Baltic afternoon
in clear winter finery.
The silence so empty
it thrills.
Greens, grays, off-blues;
a red roof or two;
reeds still bent over
from the last big storm.
Some old windmill
winding up the sky.
From vestige to semblance
and back again;
station to station
in this floating world.
.
—Mark Terrill
Collage ©Ruth Terrill
.