Harsh
The biting wind
Sweeps the bare tundra
The sun reflecting off the snow
Dazzling in its glory
Could leave a person snowblind
If precautions are not taken
The wind picks up
The soft snow on the surface
Propelling it forward
With such velocity
Any uncovered skin it strikes
Is beaten raw
The dogs lope along
At a steady gait
With their tongues hanging out
Ice crystals form
On their sweaty coats
Mile after mile
They pull musher and sled
Forward
The musher stands on the sled's runners
Occasionally shouting commands
Which the lead dog obeys
And so it is
Man, sled and animals
Move together in unison
Toward the unbroken horizon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem, Raymond! I can really picture the scene thanks to your vivid description. Have you been a musher? Do people still do this nowadays?
I have been a musher and used to race in Canada where I am from. My lead dog was a wolf and husky cross. Thanks for commenting on my poem.