You may not really have existed in the realm of that day,
But I created my own reality,
The forced blossoms of those wildflowers shimmered in that warm spring breeze,
Oh, you Skeena,
Your waters travel and flow eventually emerging once more into Hecate Strait,
My journey there that spring so long ago,
An uneventful and dear fond memories of recollection,
Those smooth roads and bridges of freedom,
Would praise each visitor,
You have held onto your wildness and silent talk,
And one has heard the ancient breath sigh,
Many more passages to discover,
For the vision of the Artist in us all to reveal,
I would leave with this painting wet and sticking with insects and floating seeds,
Giving the tooth of the canvas more substance,
And reveling always in that journey of exploration,
Rather than the arrival; has always intrigued my thoughts.
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