Look over your shoulder to where the Tamaracks stand
Where the Black Spruce embraces the lay of the land
Hear the summon of a Loon with its branded convey
The distant drum of the Woodpeckers in echoing play
Draw in that scent of the conifer’s steep permeation
From the stack wafts the billow with all appreciation
Tempt the bite of the northern as it whirls and rolls,
As the snow floats on boughs with a gentle control
It’s the lap of the lakes to a rhythmic return
With the shimmer of the moon in translucent discern
When every step registering a frozen reply,
Every breath proclaiming this isn’t July
In a place where perception lies in reflections,
Beneath Aurora’s celestial fire
Look over your shoulder toward the Northwood’s
Where the Heart is embraced by all that has stood
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem