Poetry Page

 

HIS MAJESTY'S MAIL

 

We've been running all day on this rough frozen lake.

The dogs pull the sleigh, but my legs ‑ how they ache!

The dogs feet are sore, I can tell by their wail,

But we have to deliver his majesty's mail.

 

We're reaching the shore line, I think we'll rest here.

We're not behind schedule...there's nothing to fear.

I kindle a camp fire and get the dogs fed,

Then pull down some spruce boughs to serve as a bed.

 

My buffalo robe is worn and it's old

No longer able to keep out the cold.

Howling away at the moon big and bright,

Somehow the husky's are restless tonight.

 

The long night has ended, we mush on our way.

The post is in sight now- they heave on the sleigh.

Their steps start to quicken- they're wagging their tail,

For they know they've delivered...his majesty's mail.

                                                by  Joyce Yardley

                    

        Dedicated to the memory of a friend:

        Constable G.I. Cameron,

        member of the Order of Canada   

         Photographed on his 95th birthday.

                

 

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