How far south have you traveled?
- I am almost too near to you.
Beneath the breath of the Northern Lights,
silvered tongue, narrow shoulders and enlightened
you stand so ravished.
Your snow encrusted shoes, frozen by brilliance,
is eye for beauty that captures the dawning of a beginning.
If I were to tell you
I once waltzed atop Watson Lake,
adorn with icicles and crystallized reverie,
a sealskin cloak I wore,
would you kiss me with your old-fashioned wisdom?
Hidden behind artic fox pelt?
The sound of compressed snow
and creaking ice
and frozen earth
trapped in times grasps,
holding no silhouette of its own
gives me no release.
Stop!
- It is far too cold to continue on.
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