An apocalypse will paint beauty we’ll never know

I was there, but I wasn’t
where snowy wisps skitter
across the beige-brown sand,
and skim-milk rolls
stand frozen, no longer
struggling to reach the shore.
Gulls wheel high and fall back.
I couldn’t hear them calling,
“Here’s the beauty
when life stops, and then goes.”

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I don't have a camera, so this is how I captured the wintry landscape along Lake Michigan in the aftermath of the recent blizzard.