They Would Appear To Pray 2011

Way down below in the waters murk,
Smooth in those covert spaces which lurk,
Turtles recede back into the ocher body,
Merely the waters dressed for the camouflage,
Their greedy intentions conceal the montage,
Played for always and misses of prey,
An occasion of solitude for the mallards to stay,
Their precious ducklings young and fearless,
They’ll bob for pleasure as we peer less,
Such tangle of salmonberries small and sweet,
Stains to our every reach,
Soft green leaves and shoots so tender,
Everything in these natures spanned,
Shone into those spathed yellow bright hands,
They seem to pray,
At Mahood Creek in Wells Gray,
But infact it’s the cabbage,
With name skunks way,
Entice many a glance for what is not known,
The flora with scents not to fancy,
Still a pretty delight found fresh and free,
Odor not apparent for sweetness gives way to its dignity,
Time disapproved those blossoms,
Now its scent weighed upon disappointment,
And the smells shameless anointment.