3•15•12
Alaska

Canyons chiseled by rivers old
Morning sun bathing mountains in gold
Their peaks hit the sky
Stirring the clouds ever so high
Standing on the summit
Dreaming I could fly
Gazing down upon the rest of the world
Trees with their branches
Distorted and curled
Cover the ground laying below me
Seeming a carpet of moss
All the way to the edge
Of the ocean, it's water half frozen
And a solid white
I wish you could see
This magnificent sight
Sending shivers, almost of fright
I'll always remember
The end of this Alaskan night.