We've been on this road
that's buried by two feet of snow
since dawn, since dawn
We've stopped a dozen times so far.
I haven't seen a single car
for hours, for hours
save the ones in unmarked
roadside resting places,
waiting there.
We've many miles yet to go,
through every inch of fallen snow,
to the last town in Ontario.
But we're still stuck somewhere
outside of Dresden.
Each tree marks one more
meter gained,
but I'm not sure the way
this time, this time.
Through glasses I no longer strain
to read the names of towns,
of towns I had forgotten years ago.
Somehow this province has grown
strange to me,
as if the past we shared those years ago
was just a dream.
We've many miles yet to go,
through every inch of fallen snow,
to the last town in Ontario.
But we're still stuck somewhere
outside of Dresden.