Eburne Town of Ghosts 2016

As the phantom dogs run along the edge of our vision,
A never seen apparition becomes a mission,
But the constant heard sounds of stalking pace,
From this frantic dream like a haunted tale that race,
The coyotes howl below the willows hollow,
From dens of pups so inquisitive and wild,
Once quaint dwellings brought in centuries gone by,
Sturdy kit homes have all vanished for this land sighs,
Only the gardens grow on with strict boarders still in place,
With hundreds of trees in delicious fruit,
And the delights of flowers of chrysanthemum, roses and marigolds grow on,
All staking claim to warn their flora neighbours their properties survive,
Ghostly gardeners tend to their chores in vain,
So hush for the winds wail that complains,
Mistakes for the cries of the lost spirits which once roamed,
Eburne the town of ghosts all hidden away to moan,
For now the apples that will never be picked,
On this first autumnal day by this cruel sunlight that tricks.

The Sultry Summers Breath of Finn Slough 2016

As the land slows with liquid warm vapours,
The air rises with discontent,
Soon the trapped reeds and cattails seem to explode with equal momentum,
It is the illusion of scorched objections,
Which follow the dragonfiles around this humid marshland,
Such towers of those grasses that'll reach some six feet towards the sunlight,
With flying insects being chased,
Around this windless plain by dragonflies which hunt with precision,
They'll all flutter in fury between those sun weathered forms,
Nature with her instinctive tendencies,
Of being tethered or break before the cooling dusk,
Preserve this summer mirage that reality presents,
More cool air seems to wave away this sublime furnace,
And the seabreeze is felt on all our beautiful faces,
That kiss and breathe us back to life.

Kitkatla Beach of the Nootka Roses 2016

We spent almost five weeks visiting many of our friends along the Northern Coast of B.C.  In Prince Rupert we usually stay in our regular hotel and spend some time visiting our friends who left the lower mainland to live near their families.  This year we even arranged to use float planes which were quite expensive but we find them more convenient.  As we have some long time friends which live in more remote areas of Kitkatla and Klemtu.  Those communities are found along the Northern Channels and Fiordland.  We picnic along some of the remote beaches and find the lovely nootka roses in the late summer still smelling ever so sweetly.

So Wild...like on Burnaby Mountain 2016

So wild like the wild bluebells,
Which once surprised this summer of cool light,
For the rains so soft and delicious,
In this forest air,
Up on Burnaby Mountain wet and not dry enough,

Below in these woods so green and lush,
The pink hearts so brutally hidden away,
Are protected for the timid light shines so spare,
We find just the last bleeding hearts to bare,

It's the leaves on these fresh trails that swallow our treads,
And noisy red-headed wood peckers mock the silence,
They'll call out defiantly and punish the trees with hard chisel-like bills,
And bore and whittle the cedars that squeal with each jab,

Songbirds sing for the beauty of this summer day,
As the soaring golden butterflies dance above all,
Drift and fall and rise and tease us as they please us,
Yet, once more these late bleeding hearts so petite,
With their wild nature trust us and greet.

The Dancing Wavelets 2016

Gently the rains which ripple beneath this shore,
Sure as the light so delicate and never so blindly sublime,
Move us about this marshland with spirit,
And squelching something so promising,
It's a kind of sweet surprise,
To regard of that sudden sound,
Of the many falling impressions,
Upon that pale umber liquid body below,
Wavelets so alive and many dancing riffles collide,
They spill into one another sequentially and display,
We love the sound of the rains with quiet rhythmical contact,
Again, the watery world and yet the minuscule Splashes,
For pitter-patter...pitter-patter...wonderful wavelets merge and fade back and fill this slough with hope.

Victoria Day and Land of the Hyacinth 2016

Along these hyacinth walks lay the truth,
On and beyond this fine Victoria Day,
We'll travel in the greenery of this land,
While some people call them blue bells,
They'll rhyme and sing their lovely songs,
As the flowers fade deep away,
But remain vibrate for our visit's momentarily long,
Warblers sing so proudly in the rooftops of the aspens,
And sparkle and dance like spinner tops and sunbeam dreams so true and wild,
Finally, the goldfinches appear for their quick shows,
While the purple finches pose, dressed in their raspberry-red fearless shawls that seem to glow,
And we leave Victoria once more to always return in the glorious sunshine.

Nature and the Insects Will Share 2016

So beautiful, yet pink as the fragile nights,
With smooth spring days delicious like nectar,
For which the hummingbirds taste in each sweet blossom,
High in the outreach pines, the goldfinches arrive back with subtle movements,
And all the winged beauties call out in a song,
Known to belong to the poppy family for ways yet unseen,
Each flower that whispers her name will end,
With their sweet petals falling away in shame,
Dainty forest bleeding hearts shine beneath,
They are the hearts of secret lay bare,
Nutrient surmounts for underground rhizome hails too reach,  
And eloquent equipped heart-shaped flowers begin like a speech,
From whilst it ends and seeds gathered up by wood ants with care,
For these flowers and the insects in this forest have shared.