I'll never arrive
on moving land
in shifting skies
I need the map
of another planet
No valley or hill
no roads, no cars
in a white shell
I'm hearing the sea
who's hidden the stars?
Snow seeks a form
a flock of ice
runs in the storm
a dark shepherd
whistles and drives
Someone's going by
in the wind
where the wayward
bird dies
and the cold begins
It ends on a note
gusty and hollow
I take off
my coat
for a pillow
Singing the storm
going to sleep
now I can dream
it's getting warm
beneath the sheets
I go out through my smile
I follow the snow
mile after mile
I go with
the wind and snowdrift
