Ode to the Okanagan

The water hosts our boat,
The wind, our gentle guide,
The Sun, our North Star
During this precious ride.
We swim in the beautiful blue,
Indulge in it like sweet wine,
The grapes here are ripest
During the Summertime.

Clouds send a warning
For us to stay inside,
Most flocks have flown South,
But we stay behind.
Your wings have grown weak,
As fragile as an antique.
Leaves change shade
Like an old man’s head,
Till they fall to the ground
Where fresh fungi bloom
From old bitter berries and plants
As forbidden fruit.

The warmth of the Sun
Concealed by cloudy blankets,
Smoke screens that hide the sky.
Snow cloaks the roads,
The Lake, a grave for sockeye.
Not even the bright lights
That dress the fine pine
Of my Christmas tree
Compare to the shine
Of my North Star.
The colour has faded
Like that of an old photograph.

So I await the green of Spring,
The pink and white of a cherry blossom,
A reunion with the bright blue sky,
And the embrace of the warm teal lake
That hosts my home.
The boat we shared
Remains anchored to the shed,
But I look forward to the day
When I can sail away
With you as my radiant guide.

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