Over Due at Station Two - Alaska

I’m over due, at station two.  I know they’ll begin to worry.

The snow is cold, and the wind takes hold, and my mind’s in a little flurry.

I should have known, that to go alone, to my village by the sea,

Down cold trails, and through iced dales, was not my best idea.

When it’s forty below, you don’t solo, I’ve always heard it said,

So I’ll just fight, through the frozen night. The alternative is dead.

I feel my mind go, at forty below, but to where I’m not so sure.

I’ll cuss, and I’ll fuss, and if that weren’t enough, my vision is a blur.

It blurs to a time, that seems so sublime, back to a time that’s lost.

Back to the day, when yellowish hay, the wind swayed like froth.

The sun does shine, through silvery pine, while a boy plays only half clad.

The time seems sweet, and the youth not beat, out of this pristine lad.

But now I see, the boy is me. before the fever struck.

Before the gold, took right hold, and I went on a northern truck,

Then the temperature slid, and shut like a lid, all over my dreams and hopes.

Out all alone, in the great unknown, God I’m a miserable bloke.

But I figured it all, on the trail last fall, I figured what it’s about.

If I’d stayed a lad, only half clad, I’d never been able to shout,

To the malamutes, and their frozen snoots, “Onward and onward, now mush.”

I’d have been, like the rest of them, and never done real much.

I would not have seen, a world serene, cloaked in a whit fur coat.

Nor the mountains high, just short of the sky, a wreckage of purple boats.

Some men can venture, some great adventures, some stay with the city lights.

But I for one, have gone and done, so I’ll just continue the fight.

I fight the trails, and blistery gales, I fall down a slippery slope.

I can’t get up, I shout at the pups, there is no longer hope.

I’m over due at station two, they’ll send out a party I guess.

They’ll find me here, in about a year, hunched in a snowy rest.