TOM THOMSON

Tom is gone now but the pines still whisper
Canada’s lakes in their beautiful blues still glimmer
Through birches and leaves in the fall that shimmer
Waiting for new brushstrokes though winter beckons  dimmer

To paint the leaves falling on the Canadian Shield
Seen around the world in red, silver and green
Never to be forgotten our forests continue to gleam
Waiting for an artist to record again a wilderness so clean

What was in his mind that was there undrawn
In images of the wilderness that beckoned his brush
But nature’s forests are still there in the dawn
As Canada waits again to be painted in its rugged blush