Wilderness
by Gary Olsen
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My thoughts about the wilderness, Bring back fond memories,
Of many a tranquil moment, Spent camped among the trees.
I often daydream of it, And see myself still there,
Stalking a moose or caribou, Or watching a grizzly bear.
I stand upon a ridge top, My favorite bow in hand,
Awestruck by the panoramic, Beauty of the land.
I feel like an alien, In this land of wood and stone,
With all the steel and plastic, Manufactured things I own.
I walk among the wild flowers, In bloom across the land,
Uncrushed beneath incessant, Footsteps of modern civilized man.
I marvel at the fragile beauty, Of a spider web.
Like jewels, drops of morning dew, Hang from it's silver thread.
I sit before my campfire, Eating bread and beans,
Undisturbed by sounds of man's, Industrialized machines.
By the flickering firelight, And embers orange glow,
I test the edge of broadheads, And wipe moisture from my bow.
I lay and watch the stars, Before I go to sleep at night,
Unhindered by the city smog, Or artificial light.
Aurora borealis softly flickers, Up on high,
Painting it's kinetic masterpiece, Across the sky.
I listen as the voice of the river, Talks to me,
Telling of it's never ending journey, To the sea.
It starts out as a whisper, And then becomes a roar,
As it falls from mountain peaks, Down to the valley floor.
The silence of the wilderness, The sweet serenity.
Like a wave of calmness, It washes over me.
I feel an inner peacefulness, free of stress and strife,
Free from all the tension of modern city life.
Sleep comes to me easily as I begin to dream,
About the coming days events upon the wild stream.
I awaken to an awe inspiring panoramic view,
Of majestic snow capped mountains, reaching for a sky of blue.
Yonder, the river beckons. No longer can I stay.
Bathed in the golden glow of dawn, I cast my raft away.
I slide out on the shoulders of the undulating flow,
And follow as it carries me wherever it may go.
Through sheer rock mountain canyons where the raging waters roar,
And black spruce timbered forest, and willow covered shore.
Past thick, dark alder swamps, and berry covered hills.
And beaver ponds and marshland with waters quiet and still.
Past open rolling tundra, where herds of caribou run,
And placid lakes with waters that sparkle with the sun.
Beneath it's crystal water, the river teems with life.
Schools of salmon and grayling slice the water like a knife.
Beavers by the dozen, collect their winter store.
Upon the winds above me, a pair of eagles soar.
In the dense spruce forests, timber wolves abound.
And wolverines prowl underbrush, alert to every sound.
Etched across the sky are flocks of cranes and geese galore,
On their south bound journey to a warmer winter shore.
And birds of prey and waterfowl, and grouse to name a few,
And all the woodland creatures from grizzly bear to shrew,
Help to make this land into a living entity,
A living breathing thing that must remain forever free.
I drink in all the beauty like intoxicating wine,
And feel the simple joy of life, I soon must leave behind.
And though I leave this land without an arrow leaving bow,
I feel I'm richer far, than anyone could ever know.
In memory of Jay Massey
by Gary Olsen 1990
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