Chant du monde boréal
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.



Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.

Sunday, 3 January 2010


Today the ice began to melt.
My field of view regains colours, as hills reveal patches of brown and our garden, its green grass blades.  A truce with our winter spirits…
More is to come or so I’m told. Our pale blue sky turns pink again as we turn our back from the sun.  And as we delve back into night, I will spin the planet once more and skydive through southern garden.

The following poem, as published in The Battered Suitcase [2008], just does that.


Am not afraid of outer space.
I trudge through ice whilst you’re dreaming behind curtains.
Let’s join our minds and bridge our worlds.

Was it morning or just twilight?
I retraced steps after high tides, crystallised us in last snowflakes;
walked to the edge of our garden, where each wave meets & melts our sun…

Mes pas, tes pas dans les nuages.

If I could slide like a spider across oceans,
I’d weave my way where you belong – find a corner inside your song,
hang all my dreams on meridians, watch your moonrise at earth level.

There, above black, twinning my heart with latitudes;
echoing sounds I sometimes hear in clement sky,
and feel your hands in arpeggios…

I ken du’s here,
I heard the wind calling your name.

Poet’s notes:
« I ken du’s here » = I know you’re here
 “mes pas, tes pas dans les nuages…” = “your and my steps among our clouds”

Earth Walk © Nat Hall 2008


  1. That is a truly well crafted piece Nat, thank you for sharing.

    Go easy in the snow.

  2. Thank you very kindly, Sir Heron :))