Straight stem spine reaches up
the dark mother watches
over the lake her high leaves
shower in majestic light
as black twigs sway
above the serene surface.
All over the hillscape behind
golden needles spike through the mist.
Far behind the eternal rock pushes aside the clouds
and the early sun paints it in warm orange
as it glances satisfied over the peaceful scene.
With serene indifference
the white peaks lean against
a heap of restless clouds
sprinkles of green are brushed
over the smaller ridges in front.
A few needled giants spike proudly
above the snow-coated bushes nearby
on the shore of the frozen lake
in the centre
its surface a mirror
that calmly reflects
softened shades of blue and grey
putting the troubled sky to rest.
Curious stems sway over the sand
underneath the wooden twins
that caress the breeze
with sturdy palm leaves.
The golden light above recedes into copper
onto the waters of an endless wavescape
flowing from the horizon
pulsing towards the land
the shimmering waves
burst rhythmically into white
greeting the twins with joy.
Distant violet announces dusk
final glimmers of orange fade
from the summer green that covers remote hills.
Lonely pines stand strong
mossy meadow carpeting the scene
overlooked by the old father
settled near the pond
thick bark white wisdom
overseeing the water
blending with the dark green of the meadow
as the distant violet fades.
Martin Breul is a graduate of English and Comparative Literature at the University of Glasgow, Scotland. He spent one year studying in Toronto, Canada, where he began to write fiction and poetry. Ever since, he is determined to spend time in coffee shops surrounded with books and paper, pretending to be a writer, until his fellow caffeine-addicts believe that he is one. His poetry appeared previously in Half A Grapefruit Magazine and his academic work has been published in [X]position. He is currently pursuing a MA at McGill University.
The Ekphrastic Review
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