At first light trudging through the Arctic Snow,
Is it for thrill or just a Facebook photo show?
As the Arctic wind buffets our flushed face,
The long-awaited walk soon becomes a shambles of a race.
Hands morph to splintered wood, eyebrows deftly freeze,
And yet the brochure promised we’d do this trek with ease.
Soldier on, embrace the frigid grind,
Pray aloud that inner fortitude to find,
Not a sound outside our laden breath,
Every move made with fractured hapless stealth.
But coupled to the cold a streaming sweat,
A larger wager would I not have surely bet,
That a saunter on the glistening Arctic Tundra
Would at most develop the art of soothing Mantra.

Then a booming voice disturbs this quiet introspection,
As the guide engages in frantic group inspection,
His walkie talkie comes suddenly to life,
Stern commands soon wailing shrill with strife.
Bears ahead with teenage cubs in tow,
Keep down, stay low,
Curb the chatter, pretend you’re but a stone,
Form a line, don’t venture out alone;
Rifle’s cocked, don't turn around,
Polar bears don't run - they bound.
Now move backwards, avoid their steely gaze,
Take full advantage of this soaring Polar haze.

Maybe minutes, but seemingly an age,
As we shuffle blindly stage by stumbling stage;
Our Dunkirk - the waiting rubber boats,
Ecstatic for anything that somehow runs and floats.
Back to the ship, sodden and quite sore,
Not to mention frozen to the epicenter of our core,
We huddle around cups of steaming tea,
Sharing stories of all we had to fear and see.
You may well ask, was this the fateful end,
Did we to natures will forlornly yield and bend?

It's true the thought did rather cross our minds,
Fearful of more unscripted scrapes and woeful binds,
However, a good sleep and liquid strength galore,
Did somewhat mollify that sorry shameful score.
For as dawn broke early the next day,
To a person did we in seeming chorus say:
Off we trudge as more adventure waits,
To experience all that Nature's majesty creates,
Our only thought one of craving more,
And so we went, still frozen to our core.

i heard you treasure your anklet,
to lose it you won't let,
in that case, I wanna be that bracelet,
that you'll never forget

you say you love this band,
though I do not really understand.
but if you demand,
I'll let myself be ******

and you tell you like your coffee
with a little side of berry,
if so let me be your cherry
if only you just let me.

true enough I liked you first,
these feelings perhaps are cursed.
however even in your worst,
i'd still wanna be yours.

oh what good would it do
if you knew I waited for you.
back at where we met
when things were all set

its true whenever I cry
i hear you crumble and sigh
and the looks I gave,
were just stares engraved

but darling, I do not expect.
i fear you'll go and reject
that I waited for that seven-hour flight
though I was frightened by the bite

(with an apology to Pink Panther)

Ice melts,
Hurricanes rage,
Permafrost thaws,
Methane burps,
Temperature shoots,
Sea level rises,
Agriculture fails,
Drinking water shortages,
Tsunamis show their might,
Landslide kills,
Pandemic thrives,
Fishes stop breeding,
Insects go out of sight,
and, human beings exit, stage left!

in the arctic air
the sins of the tundra are
absolved
                in passing

if you were a constellation
I would lay with my back pressed against the ice-cold grass to witness your miracle
she sees a shooting star, she wishes for love
I stand by the ghost-white evergreens
suddenly I don’t feel so big
the snow-coated mountain reigned over the land
but I, I can keep my own
I’ll follow you forever, don’t you worry
I’ll even follow you until the blisters on my tongue stop me from praying
through the monochromatic bliss of winter
the snow now silences the warm pulse of my heart beat
an arctic December, i’d expect nothing less
the ethereal skies scream of the unknown and the clouds yearn for me

Her cheeks a'blooming
Fresh petals
Assuming a charm
All their own....

Flesh roses
In a flute of bone.

Her arms are strong wings
Ethereal beauty, poised
For her journey, as a
Tern is
On its long feathered flight
From the North
She wings her way

To the South
Only to meet
The arctic waste
Once more...

Yet the flesh roses never fade

For they are
frozen with tears.

Catherine Jarvis
8/19/2019