once upon the wild coast, before we turned back
we stopped in ucluelet, whipped by rain
and there, inside linked sea cans, the ocean
denizens of barkley sound, of clayoquot sound
of rocks and shoals around the town, tankbound
lay in shallow water. touch them, know them, listen
to fond stories of this seastar or that one, known
captured year after year, for another season in the can
released with thanks and ceremony later. these beauties
understood to belong to their waters. in those days
money was being raised for a beautiful building
now curved on the edge as if grown there.
this we can do
on the wildest edge of our west.
what more is possible?