The sun set long ago,
and we venture out with headlamps.
Bright white snow consumes tree shadows
with each pass of light beams.
Snow blown in from the gathering storm
fills human and animal prints.
Fewer cars pass on the road
from Canada to Duluth.
You can hear them for miles,
a low hum between crashing waves
until they reach peak at the end of the driveway
before descending into the distance,
leaving us with nothing except waves
crashing onto ancient boulders.
