Sayings from the Northern Ice

As of this morning, eleven teams continue to race in the Beargrease Marathon. They have covered 235 miles so far. Nathan Schroeder of Chisholm, MN is in the lead.

I'm rooting for Colleen Wallin of Two Harbors, MN who is currently in 7th place. I enjoyed talking with her for a few minutes before the race began. The best finish she's ever had in the Marathon is 6th place, so I'm rooting for her to move up at least two places in the standings.





I'm slowly reading my way through The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems by William Stafford. I was delighted and surprised at the serendipity of coming across this poem during the Beargrease race.

Sayings from the Northern Ice
It is people at the edge who say things
at the edge: winter is toward knowing.

Sled runners before they meet have long talk apart.
There is a pup in every litter the wolves will have.
A knife that falls points at an enemy.
Rocks in the wind know their place: down low.
Over your shoulder is God; the dying deer sees Him.

At the mouth of the long sack we fall in forever
storms brighten the spikes of the stars.

Wind that buried bear skulls north of here
and beats moth wings for help outside the door
is bringing bear skull wisdom, but do not ask the skull
too large a question until summer.
Something too dark was held in that strong bone.

Better to end with a lucky saying:

Sled runners cannot decide to join or to part.
When they decide, it is a bad day.