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Arctic Roads Driving a long winter road trail, through tree lined forests standing tall, Where north winds blow with out fail, carrying a wolves lamented call. Roads with portages and slow turns, Only a winter storm's curtain can close, A bed of ice the cold night froze, Missing warmth as a late fire burns. The road runs six hundred miles long, slow shallow lazy drifting snow, The wind in the pines sings a song, The engine hums with load in tow. Northern songs are the only sound, Like the sound of tires weeping, as the wheels turn slowly creeping, Carefully pulling over ground. Yielding to empties heading south, greeting voices over radios bark, smoke drifting from their mouth, wide eyes penetrating the dark. A mind tiring straggling sleep, Needing rest but you never will, Sweeping urges climbing a hill, Then frozen waters running deep. On and on over each portage ramp, six hundred miles the journey ends, beyond the trees a winter camp, food, hot coffee, greeting old friends Your destination almost near, a searching beacon to the north, You gear down climbing and surge forth Lights sweep horizons of it's fear. Long long is the winter road trail, Where the cold snow blows without fail, The night has passed and the driver sees, The furl baron hills hold no trees. |
Additional Notes:
Dedicated to all the drivers that make the run on the arctic winter roads from Yellowknife to the diamond and gold mines in northern Canada...
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-11-29 19:08:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70968
Oh Arvin, I drove that highway once starting out from Grande Prairie, Alberta. Drove through 'til Yellowknife.
Got stranded there after the breakup, and had to wait for the ferry a couple of weeks. Very costly affair.
Good poem which outlines the winter road really well.