Miles of nothingness for hundreds and
hundreds of miles
only flocks of geese, dozens of them
trapped between snow drifts and ice caps
turning rivers deeper than the ocean itself
creating white rapids filled with beauty
through crystal clear ice water
rushing over moss laden rock formations
colour beyond any city paint store
ice flows and water puddles
with snow patches for beach sand
turning pale blues into near blackness of depth
below clouds of cotton blown about by
the Buffallo hauling kids and kit back from Pangnirtung

My charges, from up this part of Canada
don’t see what the fuss is all about
For them, frankly, there’s nothing to see
miles of nothingness
oh yes and four clouds