Waiting for a boarding call
At Victoria International.
I am looking out of the observation lounge
At storm clouds moving in from the west.
I see rain drops sliding down glass windows.
Thinking of my Dad
He built this airport.
Did he do something sad?
Like what was the scene?
When he landed the first plane
On this once doe and buck fertile plain
Where once Salish hunted game
Where families gathered purple camas
Was it a romantic colourful canvas?
Where wet lands of ‘tenten’ and Ray creeks
Welcomed the coming of the landing geese?
Do I feel regret that Daddy paved it?
Should I feel guilt?
He followed orders as a Wing Commander.
It was storm clouds over Europe
That made RCAF Patricia Bay Air Station
A necessity for the training of fighter pilots
From all over the Commonwealth.
Time to board from the modern terminal building.
Thoughts blow against my head
Like winds against the the windowpane
Time to gather my bags instead.
Oh, it’s a 747
My dad landed an Avro 646
In October 1939