The Legend of Whiskey Wisconsin (Part 5/9)

A thunderstorm did rage upon the plains,
Its lightning flashed, its winds a roaring might.
The traders fled, but Whiskey took the reins,
And stood his ground, to face the storm’s full bite.
The thunder roared, but Whiskey felt no pains,
And with a laugh, he made the storm take flight.
The skies did clear, the winds did softly fall,
For Whiskey knew how to answer nature’s call.

A river ran, its waters flowing fast,
Its current swift, its depths a murky shade.
The traders spoke of journeys that would last,
But none would seek the river’s hidden trade.
But Whiskey smiled, and though the day was passed,
He followed where the river’s path did wade.
He crossed the river, through the mist and grime,
And found the place that held the lost of time.

A mountain stood, its peak against the sky,
Its face both sharp, its rocks both cold and sheer.
The traders spoke of its unreachable high,
But none would climb it, none would face the fear.
But Whiskey stood, and with a steady sigh,
He made the climb, and reached the mountain’s spear.
He called aloud, and heard the echo ring,
A voice that answered, like the wind’s soft sting.

Upon the shore, a tribe was said to dwell,
Its people lost, its stories lost to time.
The traders spoke of them, but none could tell
The secret of the tribe’s forgotten rhyme.
But Whiskey smiled, and with no fear to sell,
He ventured forth, to seek the ancient climb.
He found the tribe, and with them learned the way,
Of those who lived by lake’s bright edge and bay.

The wind began to whisper through the trees,
Its voice a soft and steady hum in sound.
The traders listened, but could not appease
The wind that danced and played the earth around.
But Whiskey heard, and with a voice at ease,
He called the wind to rest upon the ground.
It spoke to him, and told its tale of old,
Of journeys far and secrets left untold.

An old chief came, his face both wise and grave,
His cloak was thick, his voice both soft and loud.
The traders listened, and they feared the wave
Of power that the chief did claim aloud.
But Whiskey smiled, and with no fear to save,
He met the chief, both humble and unbowed.
The chief did speak, and told of lands long lost,
And Whiskey listened, paying any cost.

A rock did rise, beneath the northern sky,
Its face so smooth, it gleamed with ancient light.
The traders spoke of it, but none could try
To climb the stone, for none could see its height.
But Whiskey knew, with heart both bold and sly,
He scaled the rock, and reached its peak that night.
The stone did glow, and whispered to his ear,
Of lands untold, and things no man could fear.

A pack of wolves did roam the woods one night,
Their howls a cry, that echoed through the trees.
The traders feared, and none would dare to fight,
For none could know the wolves’ true heart or pleas.
But Whiskey stood, beneath the moon’s soft light,
And listened close, as if it came with ease.
He followed them, and in their lead did find,
A secret place, where wild and man aligned.

In swamps so deep, a serpent made its lair,
Its scales a sheen, its eyes like burning coals.
The traders spoke in whispers, filled with care,
For none could face the serpent’s darkened roles.
But Whiskey smiled, and with a heart laid bare,
He took the path, through muck and mossy shoals.
He faced the beast, with eyes both sharp and keen,
And found the truth, beneath the serpent’s sheen.

The old camp stood, its fire long since cold,
Its tents now tattered, and its walls grown thin.
The traders spoke of it, in whispers bold,
Of spirits lost, whose echoes filled the wind.
But Whiskey knew, and with a heart of gold,
He walked the camp, with no sign of chagrin.
The ghost appeared, with eyes both wild and wide,
But Whiskey spoke, and with him did confide.

The river’s edge did sing a song of old,
Its waters sweet, but filled with deep regret.
The traders listened, but they grew too bold,
And turned away, for fear their souls would fret.
But Whiskey stayed, and with no fear to hold,
He listened close, his heart without regret.
The river spoke of journeys lost and long,
Of dreams that faded, yet still held their song.

A bison roamed, with horns so strong and high,
Its steps did shake the earth, with force and grace.
The traders watched, but none would dare to try
To face the beast, or join it in its chase.
But Whiskey knew, and with a steady eye,
He met the bison, without fear or trace.
The bison bowed, and with it took his name,
A spirit wild, but never filled with shame.

An elk did call, its voice a thunderous sound,
Its antlers wide, like branches in the sky.
The traders feared, and none could take the ground,
For none could face the elk’s unyielding cry.
But Whiskey stood, his heart both true and bound,
And met the elk, with none to ask him why.
He followed it, through valleys deep and wide,
And found the elk’s true heart, a place of pride.

The raven came, its wings both black and bold,
Its eyes did gleam with wisdom known by few.
The traders watched, but none could hope to hold
The raven’s secrets, or to see it through.
But Whiskey smiled, and with a heart so cold,
He asked the bird, and it its answer knew.
The raven spoke, and told of paths long paved,
Of journeys wild, and ways both free and brave.

Once more, the mountain called to Whiskey’s heart,
Its peaks so tall, its trails both steep and harsh.
The traders feared, and none could dare to start
The climb to heights where stars did leave their arch.
But Whiskey knew, and with no fear to part,
He climbed the rock, through snow and thunder’s march.
He reached the top, and with a mighty cry,
He raised his flask, beneath the endless sky.

A fire burned, its light so bright and wide,
Its smoke did fill the sky, and block the day.
The traders feared, and none could hope to hide,
For none could stand before the flames’ harsh sway.
But Whiskey knew, and with no fear to guide,
He walked through fire, and found a way to stay.
He reached the heart, and there he found the flame,
A light within, that none could ever tame.

A white wolf came, its eyes both fierce and wise,
Its fur as pure as winter’s first soft snow.
The traders feared, and none could hope to rise
And meet the wolf, whose path they did not know.
But Whiskey smiled, and with a heart of skies,
He followed it, through winds that swift would blow.
The wolf did lead him, through the forest deep,
To lands unknown, where none but he would keep.

A city lost, beneath the pines did rest,
Its walls so tall, its gates both thick and wide.
The traders spoke of it, but none would quest
To find the city, lost beneath the tide.
But Whiskey knew, and with a heart confessed,
He sought the city, with no fear to hide.
He found the gates, and through them walked with ease,
To find the city, hidden in the trees.

The eagle called, with eyes so sharp and bright,
Its wings did flap, like thunder in the sky.
The traders turned, but none could take the fight,
For none could match the eagle’s swift reply.
But Whiskey stood, and with no fear to light,
He answered back, his voice both strong and sly.
The eagle swooped, and with its mighty beak,
It challenged Whiskey to a race so sleek.

The great beast came, its form both wide and tall,
Its teeth like knives, its claws a deadly rake.
The traders feared, and none could hope to call
The beast to rest, for none could stand its shake.
But Whiskey smiled, and with no fear at all,
He faced the beast, and let the challenge take.
He met the creature, with his heart so true,
And found the beast’s own fear, so dark and blue.

Beneath the mountain, deep within the earth,
A keeper waited, ancient as the stone.
The traders spoke of it, but none gave birth
To courage bold enough to claim the throne.
But Whiskey smiled, and with no fear of worth,
He entered deep, where none had dared to roam.
He met the keeper, and with words so wise,
He claimed the heart, beneath the mountain’s skies.

In the twilight’s glow, a silver bear did roam,
Its fur as bright as moonlight on the snow.
The traders feared, and none would dare to roam,
For none could face the bear where’er it’d go.
But Whiskey knew, and with a steady home,
He tracked the beast through winds both soft and slow.
He found it in the forest’s heart, so deep,
And met the bear, with eyes that made him leap.

Beneath the stars, the fireflies did glow,
Their light a pulse, a beat in nature’s song.
The traders spoke, but none would truly know
The firefly dance that moved both swift and strong.
But Whiskey smiled, and in the twilight’s flow,
He joined the dance, where light and night belong.
The fireflies circled, flashing in the air,
And Whiskey moved, without a single care.

Upon the cliff, a mountain lion roared,
Its voice both fierce, a cry that shook the sky.
The traders feared, and none could brave the sword
Of nature’s might, to see the lion’s eye.
But Whiskey stood, and with no fear ignored,
He met the lion’s gaze, both sharp and sly.
The lion bowed, and with a silent pace,
It vanished into wild, its power’s grace.

An oak did stand, its branches spread so wide,
Its roots so deep, they touched the earth’s own heart.
The traders whispered, but they could not find
The secret that the oak would not impart.
But Whiskey knew, and with no fear to hide,
He touched the tree and felt its ancient start.
The oak did whisper, soft beneath his hand,
And Whiskey learned the truth of this great land.