Coming into the country
I walked at a puttering pace
and traveled barefoot
so I could feel the sphagnum and reindeer moss
compact between my toes
My soles grew tough
and I could trace their evolution
by the fine lines where they had healed
after I cut them scrambling over barnacles
on the beach where I would sometimes dig for clams
or interesting scraps of shell that had washed up

Coming into the country
I remember the first time I heard water
percolating down through the snout of a glacier
it was two a.m. and I couldn't sleep
because I had pitched my tent
where the water pooled
and dribbled into a crack in the ice
All night long the water soaked into me
and I lay awake
listening to it drip-drip
back into the ice

Coming into the country
I felt a certain piece of me slide into alignment
when the geese began flying south
and I followed them as far as my front door
then stopped to chop wood
for the cold dark months that would come