When the pack ice cracks
When hostile green shoots break through the hard earth
Snow whisks off like a white sheet to reveal
Grassy mound, ruin, bare rock or field
The wanderers’ ship will come
Taking soundings slowly
They will unload their cattle, cloth and pulleys
Build their stony church and wooden houses
When the short days are lit by pallid snowfall
Only the white beasts roam the land again.
I think the influences for this poem are the Helliconia science fiction series where seasons last for hundreds of years and having seen a TV programme investigating the fate of the Norse settlers of Greenland.