Weasel

the forest road open wide
curves and gentle winds
swinging gaily over rocks
round hills
and as I cross the hill crest
dipping to boggy muskeg valleys
tall dead drowned trees stand
silent warning to those who pass
"the water is deep"

diamonds or glass
glinting in the sun
as the breeze ruffles the water on the bay
subtle siren song

finding stone words
as we explore together
remember not many pass this way
tis a lonely open road we travel

....
Angus September 27, 2000