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.
- Deanne Fitzpatrick