Before the bulbs can poke their sleepy head through the ground, before the grass can green, before the fruit trees can bloom, those of us Up North need to experience our own rite of passage from the winter storms: the thaw. After a week or so of warm (50 degrees F) temperatures, the ice mass spanning the Bays begins its Spring retreat.
Once frozen streams break through the melting ice to frolic once again in the Bay.
The wind causes waves from the deepest water to crash onto the ice, breaking free of their wintry shackles. The ice cracks and begins to flow in sheets.
The waves continue to push the newly thinned ice back toward the shore.
The icy shards take refuge near the break walls which become their final resting place, trying to avoid the inevitable sunshine that melts them away.
But not before glittering like a broken crystal mirror ball. A reminder of the passing season. One last shine. One last sparkle.
Until the winter winds return.
P.S. I am decidedly not a poet. I just thought you might enjoy the beauty of the thaw, as I do.