The Iditarod.

The race is on - Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
sled dogs hauling sleds through snow,
in the lands of eskimos!
Sinuous bodies seem to fly,
like a wolf-pack going by!
How they thunder as they run
steaming fur, in icy sun.

The race is on - Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
racers say faster, and faster still,
the dogs are going for the kill,
over ice and frozen streams
over land of Inuit dreams,
slippery trails on the ground,
pelting paws thunder their sound.

The race is on Anchorage to Nome,
across the Tundra, miles from home,
sunburst golden gives respite
afore spring's coldest night of nights!
Noses pointed, icy breath,
heading home to get their rest,
bodies, legs and flying paws,
across the line to great applause!

The race was on, Anchorage to Nome,
and now the sled dogs all are home;
meat is plenty for them all,
winners, losers, victors all.
In soundless hours in the snow,
I can hear them as they go,
howls pierce the air like darts -
so fast they run, their beating hearts.

Copyright Suzy Davies, 2019. All Rights Reserved.