Tallwoods. West Coast.

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Part I like the best

Hiking short distance

From my sister’s cottage

Near Queen Charlottes.

Trees have outlasted

Five generations.

carved into impressive war canoes

By Kwakiutl lads.

Burned and hollowed out.


Imagine those suckers giving transport

To whale hunters

Leviathan making his way

From Chilean shores to the Bering.

Rolling gently, merrily

As frothy wake jumped.

To the rear.

Fearless of the harpoon assault.


I can just lose myself 

In sweet smelling forest.

Discovering occasionally

Ancient totems

With their succinct histories

Or warnings.

I see myself as rude sometimes.

Leaving the hosting family

For so much of my stay.

But sister knows me well

And is happy

That I am happy.

Always hot meals waiting.



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