North Labrador

A land of leaning ice

Hugged by plaster-grey arches of sky,

Flings itself silently

Into eternity.

"Has no one come here to win you,

Or left you with the faintest blush

Upon your glittering breasts?

Have you no memories, O Darkly Bright?"

Cold-hushed, there is only the shifting moments

That journey toward no Spring—

No birth, no death, no time nor sun

In answer.