Banff
(at Roy and Kris’s)
Down the long steps
to an unscheduled wood,
down to the feathered green
of mast-like trees
swaying high and significant.
An inland sea sweeps
deck and continent alike,
black and white peaks
a geography of snow:
one man, one solitude.
He was meant for this ground–
his presence a direction,
his message a track.
He was, moreover, destined
for this much meaning:
the boardwalk over pungent moss,
the unseen elk and wolf,
no tourists,
and a safe passage home.