Beyond the bay at the very edge of the world
Snow nestles against Vancouver Island
Under a gray capped sky
Where white seems unlikely
And sometimes impossible
But there seems no hope of spring time
As I dig holes for the primroses
So recently on the dining room table
Now in need of a garden spot
For their impressionist splendor
A muted palet for this day's
Late winter damp ground
Alive with night crawlers
Busily making summer soil
For patient day lilies
Like the slant sunlight
At the end of the afternoon