Traveling To Yuliya

What a delight to realize, While on my way to Leningrad, You've given me my first 'White Night' - A day stretched out before my eyes, A night that won't exist for me, As 'out of time' as love can be. The clouds that stretch out without end Are dusty white and indistinct, Yet textured like a spongy fleece, Like water ruffled by the wind And frozen then, retains a view, Abruptly shorn of azure hue. Much like a child the haloed sun Ingenuously tries to hide Though brightly dressed against the cold. Invisible but just for fun, From cloud to cloud he's pleased to roam While playing in a park near home. With sudden shock I understand What must have once been truly clouds Are now pink fields of snow below, Illusion fading as new land - Dark sculpted, rocky slopes suffice To shape the glacial flows of ice. The stagnant sun prisms its light Piercing a million floating shards And cold coagulated clumps, As frozen rivers end their flight And spend themselves, collapse, give way, Into the depths of Hudson Bay.