She's calling me: her mountains
beckon. Come home.
Her pristine air says, 'Breathe.'
I do. Slowly inhale and wish I
could keep it deep within and
never, ever let it go.
I dream about her, you know.
The Northern Lights say,
'Let's play!' as they dance
above my head.
I want to join them. I really do.
People tell me that I wouldn't
like her in Winter, that she
can be cold. Cruel.
Wouldn't know about that.
All I know: Her beauty stuns
my eyes and imprints itself
on my soul.
Who cares about riches?
Gold: it's in her sunrises
and sunsets, in the birch
and aspen trees.
In the warmth of her citizens.
One visit and I feel like
Alaska has me wanting
to call it 'Home.'
What took so long?
Share
Print
Save
Follow
budd