Ice Sculpture

Poem By Thelma Schiller

The wings and winds of nature blow
The pristine air through mountain trails
Up high in Cascades where the glow
Of glaciers shimmers like ship sails.

Blue ice and Chinook winds foretell
A shiver, rain, and winter's search
In solitude, I hear a bell
That echoes from the valley church

Along the river running green
And parallel to village streets.
What joy, to be alive and dream
And marvel at dame nature's treats,

In carving melting ice: to caves,
Cathedrals, sailing ships, and waves.

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Church In The Mist

What shore is this... my ship still lists?
What Church slow-rising from the mists?
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Streams cascade down the rocky cliffside where

Surviving The Storm

Along the foothills marsh-mists rise and fall;
Through glass I see their trail of fog across
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The leaves of shadow-deer and pine now toss