When drifts of snow and ice rise high
and winterís winds of white still fly,
is it too soon to start to dream
of boating on a sunlit stream?
Will this be the spring at last
like springs I knew in seasons past,
when streams ran deep and blue and clean
by meadows clad in alder green?
My thoughts are fond of streams I know
where once again Iíd like to go.
Then I hear the siren call
of virgin rivers, great and small.
As the days of March extend
onward to the winterís end,
so I scheme to venture forth
on streams in forests of the North.
Nanook of the Nashwaak
Reach out and touch a rock
Hear Nanook recite this poem.
GeoNB Map Viewer
Current Water Levels
Send me mail
NB Shuttle Providers
Nanook on Facebook
Wild West Short Stories
The Adventures of Langton
Search my Site!