That last poem...

It's a form called a "sidewalk sonnet," which is new to me. So-called because the original exemplar (what in my grad school entomology days we called the "type specimen") was about seeing primroses growing in a crack in the sidewalk. It's called "Primrose Path," by Mark Smith-Soto.

To me it looks more like a book cover, with the central couplet representing the spine. You can tell I grew up before e-readers.

The poem, by the way, does not do justice to its subject. Capilano Suspension Bridge Park is outside Vancouver BC, where the Capilano River cuts through a range of granite hills or small mountains on its way to meet the ocean in Vancouver Bay. The park is built in, around, and above the Capilano gorge, which is narrow and has spectacular vertical sides-- take it from someone who's grown accustomed to the sights of the Columbia.

But what makes Capilano truly magical is that a large part of the walkable area consists of catwalks and circular (donut-shaped) platforms suspended in the rainforest canopy. Because the gorge is so steep, a short climb from the rim gets you onto the level of the mid- and high-canopy branches of trees rooted lower down. Walking through those treetops was breathtaking, exhilarating; it really made me feel as if I could fly.

(Rain? Yes, of course it was raining. It was British Columbia. Oregon isn't the only place in the world that deserves to be made fun of about the rain.)

(Not recommended if you don't have a good head for heights.)

Honesty compels to me to admit I did not actually see a swan while I was there. Although it's not impossible, it seems unlikely that they would be attracted to water at the bottom of such a narrow gorge. I could be wrong, though.

Books Available
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside