Caleb’s Pike, BC.
I see an arbutus tree, half-burned, bordering the edge of the pike, overlooking the bay. The wind is howling through the strands of my hair; the wind is too fierce for me to cry and lament any of my hyperbolic sorrows, for which I have many.
When I get to the tree, I wrap my arms around the closest branch and hoist myself up. I start to climb– one branch, then the next, then the next, until I cannot climb any higher.
The wind calms and the rain starts.
I am a giant woman in a small body.
All the way down to the ground where I move with an ease back toward my car.