Robert Paul Allen lives on a lake near the coast of Maine. He is surrounded daily by the state’s rugged beauty. He worked  in the medical field in patient care and has seen the gamut of human trials and tribulations. The human condition inspires much of his poetry. He has been a serious poet for the past five years and has published 49 poems. His first chapbook, Between the Panes has just been published. He believes he still has something to say.

Spring Vacation

She’d hyped up the trip for months. Journey
 to Alaska after five months of Maine winter?

 Four thousand miles to see more ice and snow? .
 He’d have to pretend to enjoy it.

The flights to Juneau and their ship took hours.
Jet lag lay heavy, the small bed inviting.

Waves lulled them into deep slumber.
Up at dawn, she wouldn’t miss a thing.

Resolved to be a good sport, he agreed
to enroll in Sea Kayak Class. In no

time they were on the Inside Passage 
trailing their guide like a row of ducklings.

The exertion and fear of capsizing
into the frigid waters were his focus.

When they paused to look and listen his mouth 
went dry, the back of his neck tingled.

He gaped up at snow-covered mountains
that erupted straight out of the water, 

The stillness seemed to speak out loud
A whale spouted off in the distance.

They paddled to a stony beach 
Bushwacked into dense forest on trails

carved by bear and deer. Stopped to identify
Banana slugs, types of scat, trees and plants,

inhaled the Sitka spruce. Later, a skiff
led them to black guillemots, ivory gulls,

and tufted puffins. Near a calving glacier
terns and eagles hovered for fish to rise.

They cruised past islands where massive sea lions
reclined like Roman nobles roaring orders.

Seals took siestas on icebergs like lounge chairs,
brown bears scoured the shore for shellfish. 

A pod of hunchback whales slapped their tails,
then breached in unison like a ballet troupe.

At night northern lights danced and dazzled.
a curtain call, for all her hype proved true.