The clocks are about to "spring forward" into daylight savings time. Apparently, though, the clocks never change in Atikokan; which is even further away, about as far west as you can go in northwestern Ontario. It's not at the end of the road; but I'm sure some days it feels like it! A small town, frozen in time. A nice "found" poem. Here it is (so far).



An Hour of Grace
Mar 3 2009


It’s 10 hours by road
to a town with an all-night diner
a store-front bank.
Head north
and it’s forest, muskeg, tundra.

Here, every windshield’s been hit
cobwebbed, nicked
by gravel.
The only way out.

Since the satellite came
we’ve stayed in the house
more and more —
news from Detroit
the weather channel.

Dogs bark, unleashed,
and no one would even think
of picking-up after them.
The clocks don’t change, either —
standard time all year long.
So we joke
that when the world ends
we won’t know ‘til it’s over.

An hour of grace
when we are the only point of light,
when the world outside's
gone silent.
An extra hour
to turn down the static.
To make love with our wives.
To go outside
in exquisite darkness
and look up;
hoping the night is clear,
the stars dense
and endless.