The Frozen Verge

On the frozen verge of land and water
my footsteps ring upon the empty sands
Where the wind touches my face with laughter

Warmth of home beckons with promise of shelter
yet pleasure is held in these open hands
on the frozen verge of land and water

For cold gives old father sun no quarter
and empties all the throngs from summer lands
where the wind touches my face with laughter

No thick crowds now crush and make feet falter
no more park rangers smug their dumb demands
On the frozen verge of land and water

Just the quiet sway of oak and alder
rising up from the dunes in lonely stands
Where the wind touches my face with laughter

Here is where I find the sacred altar
to chant the prayers my filling heart commands
On the frozen verge of land and water
Where the wind touches my face with laughter