The Northern Crown
The black earth just below the moss.
It's headiness held down.
On top a carpet green and soft
The comfort of a crown.
To walk is just a hop of heart
A bounce a joy away.
To feel it is to just relax
A comfort I'm to play.
A passing look, a fervent scene.
A tree-line standing tall.
Upon a hill; a mound of earth
A feeling that I call.
The Northern Star above the frost
to guide my lazy eye.
Where home is found and I am part
of never ending sky.
A walk between a ledge of trees
My compass fresh Pine air.
To come out in a swamp of dew
Reflections that I care.
My home a little cabin further.
Walls of racked up logs.
Out front a hound dog tied to feed
an appetite of hogs.
A smoke puff from a chimney top
A signal someone's home.
A maiden in an evening gown
A wife if not a poem.
My life in Northern Canada
has brand me with it's scent.
For those above it's parallel
No time's been better spent.
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