Photo by Tomas Williams
Missing
Janis La Couvée
And with that he bid farewell and walked out into the rain
mist clung heavy to the treetops
his tuque already damp from the mizzle
red truck solid and familiar
cheerful in the surrounding grey
How was I to know it was farewell?
his countenance open and friendly
not a worry line visible, no hint of anger–or, despair.
Brief sightings from the camera on a lonely road
we’ve combed every inch of backcountry from here to there, and beyond
not a trace
drones, helicopters and planes in the sky
scores of friends bouncing over ruts and washboard
down logging roads that petered out into nothing more than wildlife trails
the view, from ridge points, to stop your breath in beauty.
Was he happy on this last expedition?
sipping strong coffee from a sturdy solid steel thermos
on high alert for wash outs and soft shoulders
transfixed by endless waterfalls, rushing rivers, mysterious caverns.
This was his playground, around every bend–a new discovery
to sit in awe and wonder, watch fog drift across the river estuary
circle ancient forest giants in a bear hug
see eagles play in the downdraft, kingfishers dive for dinner.
He loved this land
has he returned to the earth from whence he came?
his remains moldering in some forgotten hollow
or, did he step off into thin air atop a rugged mountain peak–so plentiful here in this wild place?
If only I had known–it was farewell, not goodbye, he was waving,
there in the mizzle.
Janis La Couvée
And with that he bid farewell and walked out into the rain
mist clung heavy to the treetops
his tuque already damp from the mizzle
red truck solid and familiar
cheerful in the surrounding grey
How was I to know it was farewell?
his countenance open and friendly
not a worry line visible, no hint of anger–or, despair.
Brief sightings from the camera on a lonely road
we’ve combed every inch of backcountry from here to there, and beyond
not a trace
drones, helicopters and planes in the sky
scores of friends bouncing over ruts and washboard
down logging roads that petered out into nothing more than wildlife trails
the view, from ridge points, to stop your breath in beauty.
Was he happy on this last expedition?
sipping strong coffee from a sturdy solid steel thermos
on high alert for wash outs and soft shoulders
transfixed by endless waterfalls, rushing rivers, mysterious caverns.
This was his playground, around every bend–a new discovery
to sit in awe and wonder, watch fog drift across the river estuary
circle ancient forest giants in a bear hug
see eagles play in the downdraft, kingfishers dive for dinner.
He loved this land
has he returned to the earth from whence he came?
his remains moldering in some forgotten hollow
or, did he step off into thin air atop a rugged mountain peak–so plentiful here in this wild place?
If only I had known–it was farewell, not goodbye, he was waving,
there in the mizzle.