Last Holiday

  Travel asks about itself.
Directions take us
and we direct less than we know.

   Snow drifting where
   prescience
   picked up mobility,
   it seeds cold strategy
   Passing over
   too-fast Routes
   anyone fits
   this downdrift.

   No temperature.
strolling, we touch little guides
ice-charmed handrails, calls from doubled entrances,
and replicas of the first
Indications
warm a returned wanderer.

   the replicas are truly little -
   removed from place
   their Meaning transplanted, given to anyone.

        we find the
        Inukshuk,
        last holiday
        safe

   so down a dune of snow
   children, not hurling themselves,
   just letting themselves,
   Letting Movement
   Ask them toward the river
   a Saint, which is constantly breaking.

the ground slips us
over it.
the wind pins our faces taut.