John Lambert Bjornstrom
Bushwacker, poet
As if a bird had flew into my hand
Told me of many things he had experienced
He said he was dying
His breathing was at times difficult
His thoughts were lucid and the poetry of our land so held him in its grasp.
I was transfixed, couldn’t this be forever,
as he quietly observed with his passion “even” branches on the snow,
lichen, seen from horseback.
His song to the land seemed all too short.
I will never forget your intelligence,
your gift to the land.
Thank you John.
Bernice Garbutt
Williams Lake
Read more: ‘Bushman of the Shuswap’ fugitive John Bjornstorm dies at 58
Read more: John Lambert Bjornstrom
