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