Hoping for Love Under Northern Skies

Not hoping but rather I’m yearning,

Aching with separation that has no resolve,

Some tell me that anything is possible,

But some actions are too big to absolve.

But this is not an acceptance of defeat,

Rather faith in time and persistence,

Over time, the tallest mountains,

Yield to the rains’ insistence.

So while rain washes away mountains,

And I chip away at their base,

What will be the life of the hewer?

What will be the look on his face?

Grim determination is not my nature,

But neither are regret nor sorrow,

Each place I have known has its beauty,

Each hard day and dark night, its tomorrow.

I can’t and I won’t live in sadness,

I live in to beautiful a place,

The people, the mountains, the rivers,

Bring the return of my smile to my face.

So I’m hoping for love in my future,

In time of borealis or midnight sun

I’m prepared to wait and make ready,

In the meantime I want to have fun!



OK, it sounds like bad Robert Service, but I mean it.

Upon reflection, I am amused at the thought that had Shakespeare written in a cabin in the Yukon, he, too, might have ended up sounding like Robert Service... "Hamlet" could have had a very different feel! So long Iambic pentameter, hello doggerel!

"To be, or not to be, that is the question

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them?"

might have ended up as:

"Whether it will happen or not,

we pondered as we moiled for gold,

is it better to freeze or be hot?

or fight troubles with acts that are bold?" :-)