Word Play

I was not ready for the vastness
of your dwarfed spruce fields
nor the quiet of your winter-worn
plains, nor the majesty
of your glacier laden peaks.

I still have a hard time
believing in the danger
of grey wolves or grizzlies,
dots against the canvas
of Denali or the Kenai.

Midnight suns surprised me
with their brightness, just as
the dark blues of the gulf
waters lured my soul precariously
near the Aleutian rim of fire.

I must return for one more moment
and stand amazed at the beauty
of Whittier, not the city
where I was born, but the
town where I felt alive.