There in Alaska blue and white glaciers melt into streams, creeks and happy rivers. Large Chinook salmon guard red suspended balls of information and protein.
Mammon for a king Salmon is the next generation that he will never know.
Don’t confuse our fine fish’s generosity for weakness my friend.
Now the Jack Salmon spends less time at sea. A small bachelor he’s on a mission, a fish fishing for a spawning pair. Must drop seed in their lair.
Chased away too late, spilt milk in gravel, sand and silt. Jack be gone, no sign of guilt.
A poker pun, here inserted. Make it funny, not too perverted.
The kings and the Jacks in a majestic last generous act of noblesse oblige donate their tired bodies to bears, birds and trees.
Like the Sitka Spruce, spring tips used in beer. The Hemlock soft to a hiker’s touch. A friendly hand to calm fears of losing the glaciers in a couple of years, an old ice formation lost to the next generation.