Stopping halfway up Beach Trail 3, UBC, Sunday morning

The wind from the beach
howls up the fern-lined path

The gay cornet player
in a derelict hut
practises “Taps”
for a Canucks’ game

Crows hover above
to see if I’m still alive

The walk down to shore
below was not worth it:
rocks, rubbers &
spray-painted lighthouses

The view from this
mossy log is far better

Overhead the trees sigh
like surf-collapsed lungs
as a bottle-picker ascends the
pine-cone path of a Thomas Hardy novel

Here there is time enough to
give Beach Trail 3 back to the birds

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