Best Kept Secret

Breathe in – savour the taste of a land
Free of the sky-scraper’s shadow.
The air is like chocolate mousse
After years of sticky syrup.

Follow the Grey Jay’s path –
Flying over Haines Junction;
All the trees looking like fields of lavender
To stand in the company of royal beauty
And sit on the throne of the king.
Wind lifts you up
To the top of the world.

A camper crouches low as a black bear trots off,
Shining in the late night showing of the stars.
The adventurous lie in rest – lost in the comfort of sleeping bags
Chasing dreams that slipped through the catcher.

Loud smiles and soft laughter all around the pub
Brewing up happy thoughts of the ocean
Just outside the door.
Or the smoking scent of caribou
Wafting through the kitchen.

Meanwhile, miles and miles north,
The streets are paved with forgotten gold,
And the memories lie locked in the tombstone.
A river rushes violently ‘neath crystal skies
Each constellation looking like it was painted on a canvas
The kayak parts the reflection of stars as it travels onward

Samuel Beckett once wrote,
habit and routine are the cancer of time.
So toast to the unpredictable and original;
Those brave enough to follow their hearts,
And face the world.

They paddle down the river –
As normal as a runner on the road –
No possibility of immunity to the magnificence.
The trees, the rocks, the mountains, the rapids;
They protect it all.

This place is the world’s best kept secret.