Click below to listen to the narration:
the sea rose high on halifax stone...a lighthouse blinked through sleet alone...its ribs of rock its lantern’s cry...held fast while waves split open sky...the coast remembers every gale...each gust a verse each tide a tale...a steeple stands where rivers sleep...its bell a hush its silence deep...beside the ice a banner flies...preserving songs in native guise...the wind speaks french the snow speaks old...and stories drift where faith takes hold...a barn leans west a silo tall...where farmers meet in township hall...the fields lie bare the soil waits still...for spring to stir the frost bound will...a sign reads speak and voices rise...the land responds in compromise...the grain elevator shades the plain...its shadow long its purpose plain...survey flags flutter in the breeze...marking change beneath the freeze...the sky is wide the clouds are low...a canvas stretched for seeds to grow...a fir tree leans on mountain’s brow...its needles wet its posture bow...rain scribbles lines across the stone...where moss and mist have always grown...the peaks retreat in veils of grey...a quiet hymn for coastal day...an inukshuk stands on melting ice...its stones aligned in ancient splice...above the lights begin to dance...a green and violet circumstance...the tundra hums with distant lore...where silence speaks and stars explore...at wheel’s heart the maple glows...a leaf of ink where meaning grows...it gathers wind from every shore...and holds the pulse of seven more...a nation drawn in dotted grace...each spoke a voice each dot a place...