The Pinkened Slick of Time

Summary

"The Pinkened Slick of Time" is a poetic reflection on the transition from day to night, capturing the essence of time's passage through the imagery of swans gliding on water.

Abstract

The website presents a poem titled "The Pinkened Slick of Time" by Erika Burkhalter, which contemplates the ephemeral beauty of a moment when day turns into night. Accompanied by a photograph and an audio recording, the poem paints a vivid picture of swans on water, symbolizing the seamless yet profound shift from light to darkness. The text explores themes of nature, impermanence, and the interplay between life and death, inviting readers to ponder the fleeting nature of time. Burkhalter, a yogi, neurophilosopher, and photographer, shares her appreciation for the natural world through her multifaceted work, encouraging readers to subscribe to her stories and support her and other writers on Medium.

Opinions

The author expresses a deep connection with nature, particularly through the metaphor of swans gliding on a pink-hued surface.
There is a sense of awe and a philosophical contemplation about the cyclical nature of life and the concept of time.
The poem suggests that beauty and death are intertwined, with the dying of the day being as natural as the predator-prey relationship in the wild.
The author conveys a personal moment of insight, describing a sudden realization of the beauty and transience of life.
Burkhalter's work is presented as a means to spread love and amazement for the natural world, with an invitation to readers to engage further with her content.
The text implies the value of supporting creative work, highlighting the importance of membership on platforms like Medium to sustain the community of writers and artists.

When day slipped into the hard fist of night

The Pinkened Slick. Photo ©Erika Burkhalter.

They glide along the pinkened slick, a whispered swish of feathered down, swans awash upon the light, mirrored birds against the sky.

Can they feel it? The heaving sigh? The yawning over into night? The dance of molecules within the light? That moment when there is no time?

All around, the evening breathes. Tiny skitters morph and rise and echoes cry and fly again.

A tiny fright, it grips me tight. A sudden knowing. A dawning of sight. Amidst such beauty, something always dies.

As simple as the waning day? Or when a predator has found its prey? Or waves which lap against the shore then melt into remembered forms of silvered tongues and mouths of foam and fingers gripping hard to now.

But now, it’s then. And then, it’s gone.

And death and life, they march along. And swans, they glide, leaving behind a wrinkled etching, smoothed, then stirred again, a reminder of a moment when there was a time between time and day slipped into the hard fist of night.

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

Poetry

The Pinkened Slick of Time

When day slipped into the hard fist of night

Heaven’s Misty Breath

Garden macrophotography in the rain

Swans and Cranes in Constanța, Romania

An unexpected combination on the Black Sea