Down at the coast, the marshes are greening,
Redwing blackbirds are singing and preening.
A Great Blue Heron flies gracefully low.
Spring touched this shoreline some weeks ago,
And slowly creeps up to the Cariboo.
In the high country the sun is rising,
And woodpeckers riddle the old shed siding.
A lone wolf howls his eerie warning,
A wild goose calls out to the morning,
"Spring is coming to the Cariboo!"
Sun warms the garden and small Chickadees
Welcome with song, spring's soft quick breeze.
The ice-covered lake is turning to slush,
Through the culverts, melting streams gush.
Spring is coming to the Cariboo!
Snow patches in meadows and forest glade
The sun rises high and shadows fade.
The aspens and birch have a pale green glow,
The days grow warm and away melts the snow.
Spring has come to the Cariboo!
Dedicated it to my parents, George and Kathleen Wilson of 70 Mile House.