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I like sun.

It’s bright as can be.

I play with the sun and it plays with me.

Everyday I wonder why its light is so bright.

I love you so much light, light, light.

It is bright, bright, bright in my heart.

So tell me sun, why you’re so bright.

Your light keeps me warm

when I’m playing outside.

so now I shall tell you

I love your

L I G H T.

—Jayden Grace Neal

Dark as night

Graceful in flight

To some a beautiful sight

To others a constant fight

80 above to 40 below

Through rain ice fog and snow

They will be in sight don’t you know

Maybe one or two or ten in a row

They eat as much as they can and off they go

They are alarming and smart

Mating for life to never part

A dumpster to him is a food mart

Around hunters he is not far apart

A sharing creature with a graceful heart

From dawn to dusk you will see

As the night time comes he will flee

Go to the hills and there he will be

Roosting for the night for the next day’s spree

Where there’s food or mischief there he will be

To some he’s a creature of sin and even an omen

To some he’s a gift from God straight out of heaven

Who is he you might ask he is the almighty raven.

—Matthew A. Collins

Resonate, hollow - "Who,who,who,who,"

The single statement of "Tweet!"

The bright "Chertilerp" that

Skips up the scale,

And the buzz of the fat Bumble Bee.

Oh don't get me wrong.

I don't miss the cold

That makes my extremities "nummer."

I relish the warmth.

But, best of all, are the sounds

Of the all-too-short summer.

It's hot!

But the trees are leaning

Toward one another to

Share a secret.

What do they know?

Suddenly, black clouds slide in

Front of the sun,

And tiny balls of ice

Dance on the roof

Cased by wisps of steam.

It's cold!

(not funny trees)

Down to the sea in

the ships of our making,

We go down to the sea

with the vessels of our desire

strapped tightly across our chest,

and affixed to our sleeves,

like barnacles on the rocks

with which we mingle.

And the wind with the salt —

and the stench of the sea —

it greets us upon our

arrival at shore.

It sweeps in from the sea

with desire in its breeze.

It makes its way to where

we both must stand.

ALASKAN

I am an Alaskan

Whatever, whomever that may be.

Oh that, explains it all!

So, it must be said with certainty.

Am I the one whose blood springs from:

Churning seas or cracking frozen streams,

A distant homestead or tiny trapline cabin,

Or something they call Alaskan pipeline dreams?

I remember when they came up the Alcan

Looking like a modern replication

Of a scene from John Steinbeck's

Grapes of Wrath, with fancy stetsons

And strange boots that had never

Known the painful bite of northern frost.

Oh yes, I quietly but loudly state,

I am an Alaskan, who unmistakably

Was here first, whether it be

By crashing tides, secret places

Within and of an endless forest,

Or, one of the many droves of men and women

That have descended with certainty upon this land.

For you see, I am an Alaskan

Whomever, whatever , that may be.

—Pat Fox, Fairbanks

I moved to the land of the midnight sun.

Then I married a musher, Oh what have I done!

The old man’s lead dog eats better than me.

After buying the dog food, there’s no money you see.

I married my husband for better or worse.

But worse must be coming or why write this verse.

Three hours for feeding, four hours to run,

He's always so tired there’s no time for fun.

In the summertime we fish from morning to night.

By the time we’re done sliming, I'm just ripe for a fight.

His idea of romance is breeding his dogs.

He keeps graphs and charts and genealogy logs.

His clothes smell like dead fish, his boots rotten meat,

and the smell always lingers when he leaves a seat.

Snaps, Hooks and Harness collars and booties,

and endless days of doggie poo duties.

Just had to have a brand new sprint sled,

but I can't drive the pick up, the battery’s dead.

They are a whole package, the sled dogs and him.

If I wanted a change, the chances are slim.

I said, “I can't take it and I'm gonna go.”

He said, “That's too bad babe, cuz I will miss you so.”

I remember one day, ‘twas now long ago.

The weather was cold, the ground covered with snow.

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Ida Mae returned from her job at the U.

Came to our house and the time just flew!

She had company coming to her place that night

But she was too tired to fix them a bite.

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I came to her rescue, her plea was enticing.

Offered to bake her a cake, if she’d do the icing.

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She accepted my offer and went home to sleep.

I baked her a cake with kids ‘neath my feet.

Then took it to her so she’d do the rest

But once again I came out second best!

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She said her back hurt, they could eat the cake plain!

‘Cause she wasn’t read to move about in such pain.

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I didn’t want company thinking bad thoughts,

So I took it back home and amidst supper and tots,

I added the icing, ‘twas pretty and neat

Then took her my offering to lay at her feet!

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And so at last my day came to an end

I had a good feeling, I’d helped out a friend.

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But alas! A knock was heard at the door.

Opened it wide and my heart hit the floor!

There stood Ida Mae, with her company, too

And they were all singing, “Happy Birthday to you!”

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She was carrying the cake that I’d offered to bake

And I realized, too late, her pain was a fake!

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We had a nice visit, the cake was delicious,

But around Ida Mae I’m very suspicious.

She’s my friend—I love her—but she can go jump in a lake

Before she gets me again to bake my own birthday cake!

Where in Summer, green grasses grow,

Now recline two moose upon the snow.

Fain would I advise these quadrupeds:

“That’s my lawn beneath your frigid beds.”

...

“Since I, in essence, your landlord be,

Enforcing house rules must rest with me.”

“I’ve signed the register on your behalf:

‘One large cow moose, one smaller calf.’”

...

“Check out when desired with my assent,

Your beds are gratis, there is no rent.”

“Refrain from snacking on my old birch trees,

And leave me as ‘tip’ no nuggets, please.”

A great wind came

Through our woods last week.

For days it raged,

Hurling itself round the house,

Whipping through the trees,

Putting branches to flight.

...

Today, all is calm.

Only the battlefield litter remains,

The spruce cones and branch tips,

Fragments of birch twigs

Scattered on the snow,

Witness to the strife that was

Memories of ages buried in dust

Only in dreams memories dwell

Love and hate forgotten by time

Loneliness lies at the door of night

...

Loneliness lies in memories haze

Loneliness dwells in shadows of hell

Events in life are written in stone

Chosen before your life has begun

...

Destines hand was your own free choice

To live and learn what is life about.

Hell is created by regrets of this life

Heaven is…what ever you want.

I am from a green pickup truck that a wolf followed for a half mile down the

Alaska State Highway.

I'm from delicious hot chocolate in midwinter snow machine trips

and warm cinnamon rolls in the summer evenings.

I am from dry eyes staring at the screen of my computer.

I'm from long camping trips in early July and climbing tall trees in the backyard.

I'm from my room with a math book and a calculator struggling to find an answer.

I'm from a place where the soft wind is like unwanted company and when it’s around,

I feel like I’m being sucked into an empty vacuum cleaner.

I'm from a university hill sledding down at thirty miles per hour and only crashing once while jumping bumps on the way down.

I'm from a family that believes six-hundred miles to Fairbanks isn't all that bad.

Or on long trips, listening to favorite songs on my CD player while sleeping is quite normal.

Time to fill,

time to spend, time to use.

A Being in time,

it is the time of being

I most enjoy

Time to fill with thought,

Time to spend in contemplation,

With a lassitude of body,

But joyful activity of Being.

Time to use

for me

to be

me

Oh, for the beauty of an Alaskan night, to see the stars bursting in all their glory,

The moon, rising full above the rocky hills, touching the lakes with polished flakes of gold;

A loon breaks the stillness with eerie wail, and echoed by migrant wings on high,

A phantom shadow moves across the marshy swamp, the mighty moose feeds lone and undisturbed.

High on the mountain's craggy steep, the moon reflects each fleeting form,

The fearless sheep bound from ledge to ledge, with grace and sureness of a ballet game;

A caribou herd moves down the valley floor, grazing in peace of a tranquil night,

Yet, silent as death, there stalks a lobo wolf, he to must be appeased, a straggler is his prey.

In the silence that reigns from rim to rim, the grayling leap in whispers far below,

A bear, dipping salmon, by instinct's ageless law, to feed impatient offspring on the shore;

Could I but spend eternity where God, blessed this far "North Land" to high degree,

Yes, this is home, but I have one regret, the years are few for which I have to live.

Car door slams like thin skinned tin

Face peeks out of wolf ruffed hood

Throat aches when the air comes in

None of this is very good.

.

Open up the internet

Search for bargain travel sites

Book the tickets on the jet

Leave for Maui eight tonight.

Time to fill,

time to spend,

time to use.

A Being in time,

it is the time of being

I most enjoy.

Time to fill with thought,

Time to spend in contemplation,

With a lassitude of body,

But joyful activity of Being.

Time to use

for me

to be

me.