The Great Path*

Bee hotel yawning

between the holes

glancing at open fields

north wind blows snow

eating our frozen fingers

They’ll warm up by the nightfall

a Chinook greets

beyond the great river

We speed up our steps

under the hangover red clouds

the summer is preening

I could hear it in the wind

and the bees move into their new home

my grandfather smiles beyond the clouds

* One of Canada’s many miles of footpath