Harsh incantation of Alaskan wind.
Let your eyes close, then read the book of snow.
The vast wing opens, shifting in its hues.
Aurora tilts its wings and turns its page.
A wolf’s eyes gleam to mirrors of fresh tracks.
The young pack plays at rushing the lone moose.
Their bright fangs learn the lessons of bright blood.
The hunting, hunted tracks imprint snow’s page.
Once seen, the crystal branch begins to see.
A human gaze will lift toward that height.
The cedar stiffly sways in robes of ice.
The human and inhuman gaze will meet.
Let your eyes close, then dream the poem again.
See Goya’s brush sweep through aurora’s night.
See David’s marbled shoulders rise from ice.
A lonely cabin holds the book of sleep.
