Vast, this snowy land
still and deep the quiet country
cold the cloudy fog we breathe
gasping winds that rise and break the silence
along a fence line, slowly disappearing
how small the trees and distant hills that fade like smoke
and loom the clouds like ghosts, blooming madly white – the sky
if in winter we should meet deep along some snowy height
gazing as the grey and whites fade swiftly into night
some evening silently await the moon, void of words to speak
with great Peace – to breathe beneath the great north star that shines