“The wind brings a chill
There’s a frost on the sill in the morning
It creeps through the door
On the edge of the shore
ice is forming
Soon the northers will bluster and blow
And the woods will be whitened
with snowfall
And the Reach will lie frozen
for the lost and unchosen to row –

And the morning will blow away
As the waves crash and fall
And the Reach like a siren sings
as she beckons and calls
As the coastline recedes from view
And the seas swell and roll
I will take from the Reach
all that she has to teach
To the depths of my soul.”

Dan FogelbergThe Reach