I could have left a note
but it’s windy over there near the bay
You’ll be back before the melting
they remind us every day anyway
I listen to Neve and The Deer Children
sing songs in a language I do not understand
Which path did you choose at the crossroad
I wonder over morning coffee
Where is her other hand you’ll probably ask
when you arrive and find my sign
Why are there no footprints
either coming or going
What are the chances one sweet Sunday
you’re snowshoeing in sun just passing
a girl guide troupe with raised open palms
enchanting Whiskey Jacks to alight
Coastal Range holding their mystic line
Salish Sea shimmers like raindrop diamonds
And you’re hoping these picks hold steady
Save your neck from the icy risk at the rim
You stall as you feel its presence
Silent watcher eyes your stumble through
White stallion in camouflage in plain view
Pencil Notes 