What are the chances one sweet Sunday

you’re snowshoeing in sun just passing

a girl guide troupe with raised open palms

enchanting Whiskey Jacks to alight

Coastal Range holding their mystic line

Salish Sea shimmers like raindrop diamonds

And you’re hoping these picks hold steady

Save your neck from the icy risk at the rim

You stall as you feel its presence

Silent watcher eyes your stumble through

White stallion in camouflage in plain view