From Kananaskis
https://poems.culturing.net/2026/09/08/from-kananaskis/
Clouds drift over the scent of pine
and the vague ash of dwindling fire. The sky
is covered, but still makes its presence known.
I am on a journey, just like this place,
with its shifting of rocks and water,
the trees that grow to speckle the landscape
and fall when their time is ripe. I will bow
to this power, whatever its name. A raven calls,
seeking its mate. They belong here, and so do I.
