Winter Plains of Manitoba

Brown corduroy coat from Simpson-Sears,

plastic boots with fake fur zippered ankle to calf,

hand-me-down-toque, machine-knit red and blue

polyester mittens, still wet from the school week.

Saturday flat light edging between snow and sky,

gray horizon beyond the new subdivision.

Frozen tractor tracks blanketed in white,

bulldozers grid the straight prairie roads.

Along the wooden snow fence, I pant,

climbing a cascading drift, high as a tree.

A Viking finding my way across Canada, Greenland, Norway,

ice pelting my face, brave warrior toward Valhalla.

Each boot print, a glory, every hill forged, an honor,

paradise lay across that field, past snowy muted secrecy.

A whistle through the wind, then another everyday whistle -

my father letting me know dinner is ready, come home Jo Jo.