Poem: "The Snow Country," by Robert Hedin.
Up on Verstovia the snow country is
I can see it from our window,
A white sea whose tide flattens over the darkness.
This is where the animals must go-
The old foxes, the bears too slow to catch
The fall run of salmon, even the salmon themselves-
All brought together in the snow country of Verstovia.
This must be where the ravens turn to geese,
The weasels to wolves, where the rabbits turn to owls.
I wonder if birds even nest on that floating sea,
What hunters have forgotten their trails and sunk out of sight.
I wonder if the snow country is green underneath,
If there are forests and paths
And cabins with wood-burning stoves.
Or does it move down silently gyrating forever,
Glistening with the bones of animals and trappers,
Eggs that are cold and turning to stones.
I wonder if I should turn, tap, and even wake you