As a Canadian I have always had a deep feeling for the North. As a tribute, I dedicate this poem to this vast and rugged land, it's people and a dog that was once a very great part of my life.
I'll tell you a tale
of the wild Dawson trail
of a man and a dog
and their love
that was spawned in the mold
of the ice and the cold
while the Northern Lights
shimmered above
It was there in the bite
of numbness and night
about eighty miles
north of Kobuk
while a blizzard laced
the frozen waste
young Chechako Dan
met Chinook
he had wandered away
from the huskies and sleigh
half blind in the
wind driven snow
Chechako Dan knew
that he'd never live through
a night that was forty below
chilled to the bone
lost and alone
he cursed he'd be
warmer in hell
Dan knew he was done
the Northland had won
he stumbled and lay
where he fell
I'll just rest a while
said Dan with a smile
but he knew
it was there where he'd die
and it was his fate
to end up as bait
for the first hungry wolf
that passed by
there are things that seem
to come in a dream
when the sparks of life
starts to dim
Dan opened his eyes
to his surprise
two eyes looked
back at him
but the sight was real
and Dan could feel
the fear
that doomed men know
not five feet away
from where he lay
a She Wolf sat in the snow
and then Dan knew
what he had to do
he didn't have much choice
as he inched his way
where the She Wolf lay
he spoke in a gentle voice
a quiver ran through
the length of Dan
from the top of his head
to his toes
as his hand stretched out
to the grey tipped snout
till it touched the cold wet nose
there's some that say
that the Northland's way
is the way of the wind
and the wild
yet Dan saw
in that grizzled maw
the trust
of an innocent child
the wolf stood still
and quiet until
young Dan,
with hands rubbed raw
struggled and strained
in the snow bloodstained
and loosened the bleeding paw
still as death
with bated breath
Dan watched
eyes opened wide
then he breathed a prayer
as he lay there
and the wolf came to his side
close together
they lay to weather
the grip
of that Arctic storm
Dan lived the night
through the blizzards might
with the wolf
to keep him warm
and Dan
tossed deep in a fitful sleep
awoke
in the vast white space
a warm wind blew
on the half froze two
and the sun
shone on his face
it was there on that morn
that a legend was born
and it spread
from the Klondike to Nome
in a Dawson Caboose
in the slush of a sluice
wherever a "musher"
called home
and stories were told
of the lust and the gold
that gripped
the heart of a man
but when they were done
there wasn't a one
as strange
as the tale of young Dan
one afternoon
in a Dawson saloon
young Dan
bellied up to the bar
placed his foot on the rail
ordered an ale
some grub and a fancy cigar
when he opened his poke
nobody spoke
as the nuggets
rolled out in the glare
he heard a man curse
and the language got worse
God
how that man could swear
then out of the gloom
at the back of the room
walked a miner
with shoulders
an ax handle wide
his eyes bugged and rolled
as he stared at the gold
then he reached for a knife
at his side
there wasn't a sound
as Dan turned around
he'd finished
the last of his meal
when he felt himself slip
locked in the grip
of an arm
that had muscles of steel
Dan fought for his life
and held back the knife
as he lay
with his back to the floor
then Dan cried: Chinook
that's all it took
the big wolf
pushed open the door
now Chinook wasn't mean
but her eyes turned green
and the hair stood out
straight on her coat
with ears laid down flat
as quick as a cat
she bit deep
in the miners bare throat
Dan pulled himself free
but he didn't see
that blade flash
again and again
Chinook seemeed to know
that she mustn't let go
tho her chest
was a bright crimson stain
Dan breathed a sigh
brushed a tear from his eye
as he thought
of the time long ago
of the first time thay met
he'd never forget
how they weathered
that night in the snow
the miner lay still
and Dan felt a chill
as Chinook
slowly crawled to his side
laid her head on his knee
and that was when he
felt a sorrow
that he couldn't hide
Dan held Chinook
and in her look
was a love that never dies
Dan tried to speak
as Chinook licked his cheek
then the light
went out in her eyes
I'll tell you a tale
of the wild Dawson trail
of a man and a dog
and their love
that was spawned in the mold
of the ice and the cold
while the Northern Lights
shimmered above