Cold winds blow here in the winter

off the marsh and swirl through the town.

Loading sidewalks with snow.

Sometimes so much snow that  yellow tractors and 

big blue dump trucks with blinking lights

spend all night carrying it all back down

to that very same marsh.

It is too icy to walk. The sun sets at five.

We leave work in the dark and wake in it too.

But sometimes when the light comes to the morning

there is a glistening of ice on bare branches

and I feel as if I am in a wonderland

of sugar castles and on those mornings

I know that north is true

and belonging can be stronger

then the scent of papaya.

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