The Wind Whispers Freedom
The Condor soars into the valley trough with wings spread wide on a final glide,
It’s cargo a collective adventurers all European noses press flat the glass,
White grey gold piercing beauty descending majestic pride,
The roar of engines echo loud flaps extend to float great mass,
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They attack the ground chattering scurrying places unknown,
Visions of adventure play throughout, the detachment quick,
Yukon solitude nature not purchased elsewhere reason they’ve flown,
Savouring precious the taste of every clock’s tick,
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They’ve tasted a culture before never known this place temporary to call home,
Nature once tasted the flavour acquired well being achieved never forgot,
Treasures garnered a type or another satisfactions tickle as deep as the bone,
Pictures have smiles laughter abounds freedom enjoyed for it was sought,
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Many have come over their souls bared forth aware of which they knew not,
A visit cathartic our guests relaxed without fraught.
Poetry Style: Sonnet
