There's no need to lift a finger for me to reach the sky,
already I am in it: so high my mouth runs dry.
Sitting at the lacquered table of the breakfast room
my gaze wanders farther than I care to assume.
A feeble sheet of glass is all that stands
between me and the beauty of these plentiful lands.
The thin solid strip rapidly cedes
room to what Mother Water needs
so to grant Vancouver eternal claim
to rightful honors and the Olympic flame
standing silent guardian to trees and rain
and rocks and soil, and the vast seaplane;
to all the creatures that with Man may share
Nature, her bounty, her gratitude and her care.
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