On Quadra Island

There are places you come from

I must remember,

that is our child still in me

will come from there.

So you show me Granite Bay

& I see some dark water,

two buildings, one a float house

& an empty post office.

You attest that the bay

was ringed with houses

& you, one of two children there

held the crazed loggers in thrall.

It is deserted now, rusht

into your eyes I explore

poking among pebbles at low tide,

hardly disturbing the small crabs

I suddenly see all around us.