Another selection of thoughts

Long Beach, Vancouver Island

On the ancestoral lands of the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nations

After the long drive across the island
through Cathedral Grove, turn north
at the Pacific Rim National Park Reserve sign,
and drive about 15 kilometers on a passable road,
past groups of tsunami placards along Highway 4
to arrive at the open sandy Long Beach.
As the sun slides over the Clayoquot Plateau,
an almost empty broad shore invites outsiders
to behold perfection along with surfers heading out
to be swept back in by the heavy autumn waves
of the mighty Pacific. In another month,
every swell will be filled by daredevils
from all over, though maybe this year
there won’t be as many or they’ll try to
keep apart, or just sit on the beached driftwood
that have rested on the beach for decades, to become
hypothesized with those returning waves,
inching closer and closer to Purple Shore crabs
running the beach trail for food or
protection by Incinerator Rock’s crevices.
As sunset colours the clouds red indigo blue
to the west, the howl of the sea wolves
tells you it is time to go inside.
his-shuk-nish-tas-waak*


© June 2020

*everything is one

Glenn Gould Sitting on a Bench

Eighty
eight keys,
no hint at a bench in Hogtown
only a recluse with a wool
beret

© June 2020

Your Death Hit Me Hard

though somewhat delayed. Four years later, my insomnia started.
My doctor prescribed sleeping pills, but I stopped after six months,
because I got addicted and afraid. Finally, I went to psychiatrist,
who got me to breathe and relax and I learned that I cannot change
everything. Now I do yoga every day and walk and geocache (it’s a long story).
I wish you were here so I could tell you that I forgive you for not telling me and
I’ll love you always. Your no-longer-obedient but ever-braver daughter.

© June 2020