North
In search of a simpler life she went
to live among the Sami and learn
their words for cold. The damp, the dry,
the kind with a light breeze.
Their camp was a circle of glowing tents
strung like lanterns. Six months later
she could skin a deer, chip hot red flesh
from the hide and stitch warm boots.
She knew the reasons not to count them
on their summer migration.
As she learned to talk with the herders
she lost the future tense
and can no longer say what will happen
where the sky candles green and pink
and the herd sink their muzzles deep in snow
to close their teeth on brittle moss.
