From the ship's balcony,
I inhale deep and long.
The air is fresh. Pure. I
don't want to exhale. The

sun peeks through misty clouds
shrouding the mountains and
somewhere up high, I hear
the cry of an eagle.

Thar she blows! Humpbacks and
orcas breach, sink below
the ocean's surface. For
their size, they are graceful:

poetry in motion.
We disembark, visit
towns that welcome us with
open arms. We feel like

we've come home. Back on board,
we pass glacial walls that
are not silent: they crack,
boom and hiss before they

calve with thunderous roar.
Much too soon, the cruise is
over, but not the sights
we store in memory:

Alyeska. The Great Land
has imprinted itself
on my soul. I dream of
visiting it again.