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Scroll to read the Poem
The natives call it "The Great Land"
And to be here leaves little doubt,
To stand among white crowned mountains
With blue glaciers all about.
To see again through the eyes of explorers
The place of the Williwaw's home,
Where Borealis claims rights to the darkness
In the skies from Fairbanks to Nome.
This wild land of ice and volcanoes
Whose beauty enkindles your soul
Will turn words into meaningless babble
With memories more precious than gold.
Masquerading in cliches of our language
In "majesty," in "splendor," in "awe!"
We stand here, the "adjectiveless" infants,
Struck mute in the spell of it all.
– Terry Moore ©2015