- Dear Alaska,
Alaska, how I’ve often thought of you
and wondered if you still remember when--
disheartened, in my melancholy mood,
I vowed to never visit you again.
But fifteen years have mended my despair;
I hold no grudges; sorrows are now free.
Why should I shudder when I hear your name?
Your beauty has a place inside of me.
My home, upon the hillside, had a view;
at sunset, as Denali ’s head would show,
the Chugach mountains settled in behind
and waited for October’s coming snow.
Oh Alyeska, how I loved your lodge
and long-missed slopes, whereon I always knew,
if stopping halfway down to catch my breath,
I’d meet your sweeping frozen inlet view.
Wasilla’s trees, in amber shades by now,
have spread beneath the constant skies of gray.
The Matanuska valley’s autumn’s gold
will greet the moose and calves along their way.
I miss the summer days that never end,
and every lovely thing I have repressed.
To come and see you just once more, my friend,
that shall henceforth become my heartfelt quest.
