Bride of the Pines

Would you fly from kin, labour, and land? From ancestral hearts?

South under the Chopaka, on Similkameen’s white riffles, in Okanagon’s blue cradle

Guided by great Nch’i-Wana, fruit trees’ paths. Leaves brush your hair

Walking over Klickitat’s, Wy’east’s fiery roots. Snowy rivals swoon on fair Loowit, maiden come anew

Across parched lands, through Junipers’ maze. Volcanic sentinels whisper stories under sun’s haze

Up dusty stairway wearily rising to the River of the Falls atop sky’s crown

To kiss me in cold water, lay down on grassy bank. To rest with me under evergreen towers until world’s end