Ice Storm in Toronto (with Carl Sandburg)
by Steven McCabe
We could say the ice arrives leaping like a cat.
And the cat silently contemplates windows and branches
before moving on.
My simple paraphrase reworking the short poem Fog. To address recent weather: silver & luminous with shattered trees & a million people without power. Upon us like a thief in the night.
Fog by Carl Sandburg: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174299
One question I would ask Carl Sandburg, whose answer would intrigue me greatly: Baudelaire or Scarborough Fair?
poemimage 
That’s a fantastic icy series, Steven. The sharp claws and cold breath of winter can be both beautiful and brutal.
I hope you managed okay – I assume you now have power. It is terribly cold today!
Hi Karen, Thank you for your thoughts on the series. Yes to sharp claws with some brutal purpose.
The ice rolled in last week like Carl Sandburg’s dew and everything glistened, sparkled, and froze. I fared not too badly overall. But some of the stories you read about are very difficult.
Very cold here tonight also. Maybe you had this earlier today. Let’s hope for uneventful weather the rest of the winter!
Ice storms are fiercely beautiful, sometimes completely altering the landscape as trees sigh and crack in the stillness. I’ll never forget that sound…nor the clean up afterwards.
Again, Steven, I lose myself in your images. They are fantastic. Stay warm!
Thank you j.h. for your thoughts on the images. And your observations/experiences with ice storms. Yes to the sounds and lack of you mention. To add a layer upon the Carl Sandburg image of pervasive invasion, the storm worked like a can opener opening the tree canopy. Inspiring images in a rather terrible way.
“Upon us like a thief in the night.” Winter creeps in like a cat… beautiful imagery paired with quite the appropriate excerpt for what you have been experiencing. The soft crackly of ice, the larger cracks as it breaks – quite simillar to the movements of felines… The sneakiness of it all. And disruption. And your images – cold and fierce. I can see my breath in them… This is beautiful, Steven. As always.
Hi Stephia,
I’m picturing your suggestion of breaking, cracking ice being similar to the movements of felines. As motive and consequence suffused with film noir undertones undertake their mission.
Tiny is delicate as larger is shattering. Fog is fog but ice is ice. And a kitten is not a panther.
To add…visible breath… connects fog with now frozen air.
I appreciate also your thoughts on the images.
Great images, Steven. The cats almost seem mummified on one hand- sort of terrifying, but then childlike on the other hand. As a child, I always loved losing the power – with the lighting of the candles and the lamps, but then, I never had to worry about freezing pipes or freezing bones- just the wonder of living by fire. Being cold is terrible suffering.
May you know warmth and blessings on your new year, Steven.
Hi Jack, Mummified cats! This hasn’t occurred to me. But the colour…the enveloping of a delivery system…the blanket effect…all really fit. And terrifying and childlike at the same time. Maybe like in a dream…petting the cat suddenly leads into the underworld….
‘The wonder of living by fire…’ That is a fantastic description of something awe-filled. What a beautiful description.
All the warmest and the best for your new year also! Thank you for your thoughts Jack.
coming late here but so absorbed by your images and the poetry of the comments and your replies…”like a can opener opening the tree canopy.”…”petting the cat suddenly leads into the underworld”…superb. I fear the cold and love cats…your images like a dream incorporating both..inspiring through and through…
Thank you John, and hello. Yes the comments often open up an entirely new understanding for me. And then to reflect ‘the new’ in a word or two. Your line ‘I fear the cold and love cats…’ sounds like it could be the beginning of an essay/story/poem!