The blizzard stole off with our sense
and hid all hints of difference
so no distinctions should be found
between the slopes and level ground.

No path turns homeward over hills,
and roads show nowhere as the chills
make clouds of every breath we take
while we slog by the frozen lake.

Then, narrow arrows through the night:
three evergreens reach toward the light
of constellations coming clear
to orient us out of here.

Orion, hunter from the east,
seems to point a way, at least.
Then other signs direct our eyes.
The more we seek, we recognize.

Was nature ever much a guide,
at first disclosing, then to hide
the landmarks and those things we need
in order that we might proceed?

Perhaps tonight it makes amends.
A storm has passed, and now we're friends,
or partners working to survive.
I thank the stars we're still alive.