Sitka, 1927

Oil lighted spruce cabin,
an early noise, the morning ritual
of fishermen putting on seal skin
hats – tremendous color through
panes, and wind like ghost through
glass. Coals warm, not hot, no tea.
Only a lifetime of arctic plain, wet
heavy boots and leather mittens,
the private routine of out-door,
one foot, another foot down
mud snow graveled road. Men
from Thorne Bay or Angoon.
Men set like moose, hulking shapes
whose frames are lost in bundles
and bundles. Out from the road
the canopy thins to sea, land becomes
ice gripped, forever flat and finally wet
with a deep salt ocean that holds
them every bright hour of the day.