Edith Holden's countryside
in soft pastel and saccharine poem
is sweet on the tongue and to the eye
but that's not where I'd want to roam.
More appealing to me the Canadian North,
which no one can domesticate.
I escape to pine and rock,
wind and water, glacier's fate.
You feel small in such terrain
'neath massive sky in frigid light,
yet mind awakens, heart expands,
rising to meet the mountain's height.
The North demands soul's stamina
through rugged ground and river's peril.
Yes, I prefer scenery like myself--
remote and fierce and somewhat feral.
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