The Path Home

 
On the path home
snow glitters brightly
in banks, piled high
the shadowed planes
reflecting blue light,
the wind's progress
shown in dips and whorls.

At the bottom of the cliff
on which our
cozy home resides,
the Great Whale River,
frozen over and immense,
is a quilted pattern
of paw prints,
intersecting, as if by design,
the ski-doo tracks
of excited trappers.

In the distance
the inuksuk stands,
a proud giant
marking an end to land,
standing as if staring
at the seemingly endless
vast expanse of white;
the Hudson Bay
stretching to the horizon
and beyond.

The weather is finally
warm enough to appreciate
these wondrous sights;
a soothing and relaxing
minus fifteen Celsius,
warmer than it's been
in almost two months.

I grin and pause,
taking out my camera
and snapping a quick picture,
before hurrying on;
my very favorite part
of the path home
is what awaits me at it's end;
your smile.