Cold, cold

This is a lovely view she says in a voice

that might be mistaken for a sigh.

It was just that time of day

when the sun is low and pink tinges the sky.

Over her shoulder, tall moss-covered cliffs ,

now to her right,

now to her left,

blue sky above, below

the sun’s eyes red and watery.

These wisps of fog seemed to her like perfect cobwebs

I wish that everyone could see this she thought

as her dress fluttered beneath, then over her head,

then again wound around her legs.

Once, she could nearly touch the moss on the cliffs

while the velocity of a southerly wind

pierced her ears in high pitched song

like a thousand swallows.

And then a sudden, icy splash

a crash like thunder in her ears

so wet and cold it takes her breath away

invigorating, suffocating, sudden but then peaceful

drifting down, down, down

quietly reaching the ocean floor