” I see so much here in the Far North that suggests poetry… the Northern Lights … more stars than you could ever count … a cold so sharp it takes your breath away … the snow blowing across the frozen bay, and the amazing waves left in its wake, the elusive red foxes that live on the sand dunes, the frost flowers themselves … all of it.
But I couldn’t write a poem about it if my life depended on it. Can you? ”

Have read and enjoyed every word of your blog – thank you.
Not only an accomplished scientist, you write from the heart.

This section brought to mind early childhood memories of a Yorkshire home, without central heating, right on the snowline. The ‘frost-flower’ paintings (attributed to some artist named Jack Frost, by pure coincidence) which frequently decorated the window panes in the depths of winter were stunning.

Thank you for the opportunity to share in your experience.

Stephanie

I hope you are keeping your toes and finger tips warm. We await your return with bated breath.

Mom and I are so excited for you and your adventures. You are soooo cool!

We were wondering if Gilbert is happy in his new home?

Be Careful. Thank you for caring about our ice!

love
Nick and Al

Mary Ellen and I have so much enjoyed your Blog!! You have done a superb job in sharing your amazing adventure! We both think you are poetic!! All of your photos are magical!! What a great experience! I cannot say that I would truly enjoy popping off in the Arctic for a five mile journey! You both are very brave!!!

I love you and miss you. Take care of yourself and I will call you when you get home. I have a special rate for the U.K.

Lots of Love, Evie, Mary Ellen and Honey Fitz (her dog!!)

She Hears

the skinny blue light that
stalks the snow, and

the frost-flowers at water’s edge
with their six-fold hearts,

and the borders of shadow
gathered into a cove
of fir and fox;
she hears

the sound the helix of green
aurora wrings from the north sky, also

like what the breath of the ice-bay
says in the inuksuk’s ear, a

crack

of cold and distance.

[dedicated to Rachel and Anita]

[sound of Rachel smacking Jeanne, long distance]

If no one hears the
sound of sonde falling, did it
take the measurement?

…How about a humorous haiku:

Bring home from the bay
frost flowers in a bucket:
frost seeds now; sorry.