Low clouds swarmed over the water which glowed with colored threads. The mossy promontories reached toward the Arctic islands.
Now grey clouds came over him, and the water writhed with windy lines like springs, and the droplets sprang apart, leaving whiteness between — an atlas page. He could walk along the beaches and pick up pieces of fossil coal polished over and over by the sea. The sky showed blue-green through the cloud-chinks, while pale blue icebergs bestrode the water in equivalent rarity.
Willow Lady was his wife. He didn't really know her.
He laid his face down in the moss and kissed her cold mouth that drooled fresh water. The wind said:
