Nanook's Paddling Poetry: Alder Green

 Alder Green 

NepisiguitWhen drifts of snow and ice rise high
and winter’s winds of white still fly,
is it too soon to start to dream
of boating on a sunlit stream?

Will this be the spring at last
like springs I knew in seasons past,
when streams ran deep and blue and clean
by meadows clad in alder green?

My thoughts are fond of streams I know
where once again I’d like to go.
Then I hear the siren call
of virgin rivers, great and small.

As the days of March extend
onward to the winter’s end,
so I scheme to venture forth
on streams in forests of the North.

 Nanook of the Nashwaak 
 Reach out and touch a rock 

Click here to hear Nanook recite this poem.