Rachael Mead #25, Wild at heart

Wild at heart

West Antarctica

It is ridiculous. 

Who could ever think

this place godless

when every element

is present and grandstanding?

Glaciers crack scaled backs in the sun,

mountains grate their peaks

against unblemished sky.

And the air!    The air

standing so straight in the valleys.

There is wildness here,

a great lounging presence

with claws curled deep in the shale.

All that is missing is fire.

But I can feel electricity

singing along my nerves

and the friction

of this nib on paper

frantically scratching,

hoping for a spark.