The Ruth

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Abstract

rs of snow, rock, and sky.Prominent peaks dominate. Denali, the great one, is straight ahead but not close. The Moose’s Tooth is to our right and nearby, Both imposing but welcoming.In the Alaska Range.Suddenly, we break free of the Gorge And fly into the Ruth Amphitheater. The venue of venues.The Cessna turns left Toward the Mountain House. We haven’t even landed yet, But the concert has already begun.In the Alaska Range.We’re late, what should we do? I take a deep breath, And realize that thankfully we’re not too late, Because the music never ends.The sky is clear And t

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he landing site on the snow is vivid. The closer we get to the ground, The more massive and magnificent the peaks become.In the Alaska Range.The plane touches down and stops. I open the door and step Out onto the Ruth.Warm in my parka Overwhelmed by the surroundings.There are few people, no musical instruments, No conductor, And not much of an audience.But I feel the full force of what I hear, And am compelled To whisper to myself where all can hear, “Bravo.”This poem also appears on my website, <a href="http://adventurestold.com">adventurestold.com</a></article></body>

A poem about my first time flying to the glacier

Denali and the Moose’s Tooth rising above the Ruth, courtesy of the author

I look out the window Of the three-seat plane, As we near the landing site On the Ruth Glacier.

In the Alaska Range.

Not long after take-off, we flew over trees, rivers, and then the lower Glacier. Now, we’re flying through the Great Gorge Between startlingly huge mountains And above a river of ice. The world is the colors of snow, rock, and sky.

Prominent peaks dominate. Denali, the great one, is straight ahead but not close. The Moose’s Tooth is to our right and nearby, Both imposing but welcoming.

In the Alaska Range.

Suddenly, we break free of the Gorge And fly into the Ruth Amphitheater. The venue of venues.

The Cessna turns left Toward the Mountain House. We haven’t even landed yet, But the concert has already begun.

In the Alaska Range.

We’re late, what should we do? I take a deep breath, And realize that thankfully we’re not too late, Because the music never ends.

The sky is clear And the landing site on the snow is vivid. The closer we get to the ground, The more massive and magnificent the peaks become.

In the Alaska Range.

The plane touches down and stops. I open the door and step Out onto the Ruth.

Warm in my parka Overwhelmed by the surroundings.

There are few people, no musical instruments, No conductor, And not much of an audience.

But I feel the full force of what I hear, And am compelled To whisper to myself where all can hear, “Bravo.”

This poem also appears on my website, adventurestold.com