Leaving The Fire For A Walk

Wear your cariboo muk-luks,
warmest for deep snow,
moon is full,
we will walk tonight,
feel northwind,
scrape our faces
with its bone knife.

Let's recall our love
for this frozen isolated place,
maybe find God walking
among his sixty foot
snow-laden Christmas trees
along our river choked with ice,
rushing from glaciered mountains
to salmon-teeming seas.

There is our favorite Summer's meadow,
field of undulating moonlight silver,
stand knee-deep in drifted crystal,
ringed with celebrating trees.

Look way up,
awe-filling borealis
shakes his coloured curtains
down on us
across star-spilled sky.

Our breath and beating hearts,
loudest sounds we hear
except distant spine-tingling
call of wolf
or furtive step I think is deer
(I hope he knows the wolf
is more of threat than we are)

We came out seeking
God we know not what,
wolf was seeking status
meat and mate.

Though footfall of  deer too light,
moon less bright,
curtains of the falling northern light
enclose an entry on a stage too small,
still,

we are satisfied that being more
than all of all
He is enough.