Alex Clark
Registered User
Life Long Alaskan
Alaska Bush Plane Pilot
There ain't no rest, in the Great Northwest.
If you're an Alaskan Bush Plane Pilot.
The coming of fall, tends to bring em all.
Wearing anything from camouflage to bright scarlet.
They bring heavy gear, and guns made to shoot deer,
To a land full of bears, moose and swamp water.
Then they darn near sink your plane's floats, when looking for goats.
Not to mention the "wolf" they saw, that was really an Otter.
But, there are some delights, mostly on cold dark nights
When you're sleeping far, far, out in the sticks.
Just pull back your poncho and stare at the stars
And gaze into the heavens, until your eyes start to play tricks.
The Loons in the distance, the floatplane on the lake
The dying fire embers and the mist from the breath that you take.
Tomorrow will probably bring, more hiking and packing.
Then maybe some flying, to bring out what the others are lacking.
But as for tonight, it's just me, my float-cub and the stars.
Sitting on her yellow floats, with her engine standing-by to Light Fires.
So, I'll tend the fire, plus toss and turn, till early frosty morning,
while listening to my exhausted guests, with their labored heavy snoring.
Cuz, there ain't no rest, in the Great Northwest.
If you're an Alaskan Bush Plane Pilot.
Alex Clark
Sept. 11 2004
Homer Alaska
If you are gonna use any of my poems fine, but remember that I also have them in copywrite print elsewhere, so don't step on your own poncho by claiming authorship. Alex Clark\
PS: will somebody let me know every now and then if they like any of them??????
There ain't no rest, in the Great Northwest.
If you're an Alaskan Bush Plane Pilot.
The coming of fall, tends to bring em all.
Wearing anything from camouflage to bright scarlet.
They bring heavy gear, and guns made to shoot deer,
To a land full of bears, moose and swamp water.
Then they darn near sink your plane's floats, when looking for goats.
Not to mention the "wolf" they saw, that was really an Otter.
But, there are some delights, mostly on cold dark nights
When you're sleeping far, far, out in the sticks.
Just pull back your poncho and stare at the stars
And gaze into the heavens, until your eyes start to play tricks.
The Loons in the distance, the floatplane on the lake
The dying fire embers and the mist from the breath that you take.
Tomorrow will probably bring, more hiking and packing.
Then maybe some flying, to bring out what the others are lacking.
But as for tonight, it's just me, my float-cub and the stars.
Sitting on her yellow floats, with her engine standing-by to Light Fires.
So, I'll tend the fire, plus toss and turn, till early frosty morning,
while listening to my exhausted guests, with their labored heavy snoring.
Cuz, there ain't no rest, in the Great Northwest.
If you're an Alaskan Bush Plane Pilot.
Alex Clark
Sept. 11 2004
Homer Alaska
If you are gonna use any of my poems fine, but remember that I also have them in copywrite print elsewhere, so don't step on your own poncho by claiming authorship. Alex Clark\
PS: will somebody let me know every now and then if they like any of them??????
Rick
