Stories

The Dolphin

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The Dolphin
Shock and revulsion swept through him
in a swift, devastating wave
as he witnessed the intentional pollution
of waters essential to so many lives.
The dolphin struggled with his keen intelligence
to understand these strangest of sea-faring mammals.
They were curious, callous, and cruel,
these dominant killers of the aquatic world.
The pollution was everywhere!
He felt an overpowering sense of panic
and began to emit distress signals,
thrashing about in the fouled water.
Not knowing where to leap or dive,
his hopes slowly drowned in despair
of such arrogantly contemptuous destruction.
Polluted clouds formed from polluted waters
then marched with strong, polluted winds
to vent their raging, vengeful furies
on polluted sea and polluted land.
With them, the dolphin’s distress signals
echoed long unheeded warnings
of this insanely suicidal species
destroying the environment of their own world.
Listen…Do you hear him now?
March, 1992 revised May, 2004

The Bear

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The Bear
He stopped and sniffed invisible messages in the air,
recognizing the telltale signs of observing watchers.
Then he heard the betraying clicks of cameras
and human voices hushed in secretive whispers
mocking the power and dignity of his bearing.
Some chuckled at the nickname ‘Friar Tuck’.
The bear resented their intrusions into his forest
and the increasing thefts of his territorial possessions.
He shifted his tremendous weight onto weary hind legs
in laboured effort to lift himself to the height
of his most threatening stance,
forepaws clawing warnings—open-mouthed
to show the teeth of his fierce pride.
He was a massive, battle-scarred male—
a combat veteran of grizzly skirmishes
who preferred the gentler moments of his life
when, in harmony with the spirit of the land,
he foraged for the offerings of the seasons.
He continually fed the hungers
of his voracious appetites,
resourcefully adding to the measure of his fat.
Fat was the burdening measure of his efforts
to succeed in facing the wilderness
of unpredictable challenges
and the long-wintered state of dormant denning.
For a brief moment his memory drifted back
to first comforting awareness
of his devoted mother
and the secure closeness of her well-hidden den.
He remembered the initiating discoveries
and memorized lessons of cub learning,
the strict discipline of the protective she-bear.
Then came roaming independence
and the instinctive spirit
that habitually called him in autumn winds
to the solitary confines of his cloistered retreats.
It was calling him even now
to stop wrestling with the world
and respond to consciousness
beyond brute force and flesh.
Yes, he must obey that call.
He humbly lowered his heavy weight,
no longer desiring to contest
these arrogant, curious creatures
who now ruled and robbed the forest he so loved.
He slowly retreated,
aching in every joint of his old body,
and wondered if he’d ever awaken
to the miracle of another Spring.
March, 1992 revised May, 2004

At Lone Wolf Lake

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At Lone Wolf Lake
Years later the memory sprang suddenly to mind.
“Whatever possessed me?” I wondered aloud.
“What a wild and crazy thing to do!”
Dad had said, “Try fishing Lone Wolf Lake”
when I sought to entertain a visitor from the south.
“Okay,” I replied, determined to give him
a taste of our Northern Ontario wilderness
that he’d not soon forget.
Lines cast from shore, I saw his wolfish grin
as we waited in the hot, still air.
Oh, oh! I said silently to the swarm of blackflies.
Am I Little Red Riding Hood to his Big Bad Wolf?
As he tried to devour me with an unwelcomed kiss,
we heard loud, crashing sounds advancing toward us.
Relief transformed into awe in that magical moment.
A magnificent bull moose appeared.
He stood in his power and glory just a few yards away,
head slightly bent in a challenging stance.
Oh, oh! I said silently to the mosquitos. What now?
Then a sense of predatory wildness came over me
with a fearless courage unlike I’d ever felt.
The moose reacted instinctively, turned around,
and headed back into the bush as fast as it could
with me chasing after it, unarmed, and running
as if my life depended upon the hunt.
When the feeling passed, I stopped, shook my head,
and waited ’til the Big Bad Wolf caught up.
He’d changed too. A sheepish grin. Fear in his eyes.
I laughed then, as I do now.
Whatever possessed me at Lone Wolf Lake?
February, 2000 revised march, 2004

Timeless

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Timeless
Spring in Winter called Alissa and I to explore,
so we drove the winding mountain roads
that thrill you with wonder at every turn.
We traveled from Victoria to Tofino,
with blessings for our adventurous journey
from the ancient trees of Cathedral Grove.
Aboriginal artistry whispered to us
in a quiet, meditative Gallery
offering images to nurture the soul.
A print called ‘Timeless’ spoke directly to our hearts.
Creative Spirit joined the Sun on one side
to the Full Moon on the other
with bright colours and bold lines.
Soon we found ourselves at Long Beach,
walking happily between the Sun and the Moon.
We’d entered the awesome beauty of a timeless walk
on wave-patterned sand firm beneath our feet.
The tide was out, revealing little treasures
here and there along the magical shore.
Seeming near though far, frothy mint-green waves
reached to greet us, then invitingly drew back.
Wet-suited surfers rode upon their crests.
Birds watched from the sand, the water, and the sky.
Scattered across the dream-world landscape,
explorers like us wandered,
soaking in the simple joy of being.
It was a timeless scene in which we walked—
the slowly setting Sun soaring
above the vast Pacific waters to our right,
while to the left the Full Moon sat
like an eagle resting on the tree-tops
waiting for the unknown night.
We still have a Universe to explore
in the cycles of aeons to come
but timeless memories last forever
so we’ll surely relive this one.
February, 2000

A Fox Tale

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A Fox Tale
You are being cunningly deceived,
warned the red fox with the sly smile.
Once again it had jumped from my hands
to lie down on the table before me.
Tell me how! I demanded to know
of this fox who spoke to my imagination—
but to no avail. It was silent again.
Frustrated, I set the gypsy picture cards aside.
So many silent foxes in my life, I thought,
remembering encounters through the years.
The curious, silent fox waiting patiently for us
on the side of a sunlit country road—
the huge, silent fox passing close by me
as we picked wild blueberries on a sandy hill…
There were other foxes too,
all silent totem-messengers of Nature.
Tell me how, I prayed to the Universe,
trusting the red fox’s answer would finally come.
Late that evening my teenage son arrived,
breathless, wide-eyed, and excited.
“Mom, you won’t believe this,
but a red fox just followed me
right from the restaurant downtown
into our driveway at home!
Then I smiled a slow, sly fox smile.
“Do you have something to tell me, son?”
February, 2000