Written some years ago in Vancouver
Mists, grey as monsoon clouds,
Shroud the still snow covered caps
Of mountains in the distance
The park is as green as a henna bush
Displaying a myriad verdant shades
While tulips and rhododendrons run rampant
On its edges
Dancing in sunshine yellow, lipstick red
And muted hues of purple, pink, papaya orange.
I wonder why in all this splendid array
Of a western spring and early summer
My imagery still wanders back
All the way,
From Canada to India.