This morning
the ice groaned,
breaking up
in the pre-spring sun.
Sounded like
blue whale
cries.
The last whisper
of winter
booming out
giving way to the trumpet of spring.
In one language.
The same language
so clear------
open water
the blue whale shouts
for open water.
A breath
at last,
in anyone's language.
3-11-87
