From inside my parka's hood,
A fuzzy warm cave for me;
I peer through the howling white,
But winter is all I see.
I cannot see where I am,
And barely see where to go.
I navigate by the sun,
And by shadows on the snow.
The muffled cry of the wind,
Laughs at my bundled up ears,
Sings to my frozen heart, that
This journey will end with tears.
Only up here in the North,
Where spirits of snowstorms talk,
Could I get lost without hope,
Taking the dog for a walk…
Mick McKellar
April 2015
OK, maybe I’m stretching...just a bit.
Mick
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