Welcome to National Poetry Month at The Other Pages. My name is Steve Spanoudis and I curate the series each year, with help and contributions from Bob Blair, Kashiana Singh, and (Nelson) Howard Miller. I’m coming to you from Coral Springs, Florida, on the eastern edge of the Everglades.

Occasional poetry consists mainly of poems written to remember or commemorate special events. Battles, coronations, state funerals, the dedication of a building. But poets write many occasional poems at a more personal level - on the birth of a child, for example. I always thought one of the masters of simple, domestic occasional pieces of light verse was Christopher Morley. There is a large collection of his works at theotherpages.org.

Today’s poem, however, is very specific. The viewpoint, I think, is a grandmother, relishing the amazing skills of her granddaughter. You might simply consider it a descriptive poem, but from the Grandmother’s viewpoint, as the title words suggest, it was a memorable occasion.

That title is  Amelia’s First Ski Run, and yes we’re out of season, but the sense of pride, the use of sounds, and the elegant simplicity of the short poem caught my eye and ear.

First the poet: Nora Marks Dauenhauer (1927-2017) grew up as a member of the Tlinget tribe in Alaska. Her father was a fisherman, and the family lived in seasonal camps, and sometimes aboard a fishing boat. Imagine how much change she saw in those ninety years. She earned a degree in Anthropology, and became a poet, author, and scholar of her native Tlinget language. She went on to become the Alaska State Writer Laureate.

By the way, current U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo is also a Nora Dauenhauer fan. You can listen to her reading How to Make Good Baked Salmon from the River on YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bX2x2Rf7tI). If you listen, besides Harjo’s joy at reading the description, what comes across is Dauenhauer’s own joy in remembering traditional ways and relishing traditional foods, and her honest acknowledgement that, inevitably, living in a city apartment may require a few compromises on traditional recipes and cooking techniques.

But for today, I chose a shorter poem, one that gets across that first idea, that joy and pride, without compromise. Dauenhauer was born near Juneau, and the poem’s heading indicates it was written at Eaglecrest, a nearby public ski run. Sourdough is one of the highest runs on the mountain.

She starts out:

Amelia, space-age girl

at top of Sourdough

makes her run with Eagle Grandpa Dick,

Raven girl, balancing on space,

gliding on air

in Tlingit colors:

And later:

Once in a while

I could even see space

between her legs and skis.

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