The Living Photograph

The wind blows stridently
off the wide St. Lawrence River
and high-flying gulls call plaintively
though in their perfect element.
Only a short while earlier a
harsh winter had frozen deeply
into the river, snow mounding the
icy surface. The sky wider and bluer
is somehow reflected in the cold
crystal clear river, colouring its
near shore depths not blue but
strangely the palest palette of green
lapping at the shoreline. Across
the river, another shoreline, 
another country and there
human habitation to match its
opposite shore. The haunting blast
of a freight train travels across
the distance, the train trundling
the landscape distance-miniaturized.