For many eons you were not here,
Hidden under ages of an ice era,
Winter snows have covered over you,
Protecting and refreshing you,
Now, Mother Nature slowly brings you to life
And slowly to death,
Ice age to slowly erode.
Have traveled over your surface many times,
Winter you were below my skis,
Summer I climbed above you in boots with crampons,
Planting an anchor into the adjoining mountain side,
Aluminum and steel now invade the smooth carved mountain wall,
Cold and drenching rains of spring to soon come,
Followed by summer sun rays that penetrate your cover,
You still survive.
The wind stops and now you are shrouded in silence,
Here now naked, void of life and warmth,
In early morning light you are beautiful with an ice field grandeur,
Silently retreating,
Five years ago you stretched a quarter-mile more downhill,
Ten years almost one-half mile,
Still your field stretches several miles,
My hope is that my children’s children can still gaze upon you.
A spring day - I move further up your slope - am alone,
Taking my time, moving cautiously,
A jagged snow line crevassing in front of me,
Today, a sensible man, I retreat back down slope,
Crampons holding me firmly into your back,
Soon down to bottom of your now crystal blue face,
Sun reflecting off the bright ice,
A slow stream of water flows from you, a stream emerges.
Life emerges downstream from an area you created,
Boulder fields that you have placed on this landscape,
Now pockets of fine gravel - a plant emerges,
Seeds carried into the area by a wind and a soaring raven,
Further downslope trees have emerged,
An ice age has left, but Nature continues to carry on,
From a tree a forest emerges,
Alaska’s glaciers will exist and blend with Nature until you slowly disappear.
