Green

a fresh love unfolds
like the light spring leaves
on the path to you

Aurora

rhythm reels the spirit
dancing like bright northern lights
happy in the beat

Art

a dark rain steadies
the silent November night
screams for creation

Pride

through vast green forests
Highway Six slashing northward
a proud intruder

Sunset

tomorrow’s clouds float
in the gold sinking sunlight
of today’s drowned dreams

Retreat

sweet blonde voice warming
like the orange-red flames of fire
colouring the air

Incessant

whitewater rushes
reaching for rocks bedded in
the sand of the shore

Memento

bouyant clouds bathing
like pleasant memories of you
in blue morning sky

A Friend

deep, throaty laugh splash
like rain on fresh clean morning
washes night’s stale thoughts

Lonely

hard, cold crusted snow

cries out for warm white blanket

a soft snow romance

Portent

moon; round, white and full
shines and lights up the black sky
cloud’s edge can be seen

Combing

we choose memories
like shells on beach
only the best
--------whole
--------delicately coloured
--------clearly patterned
and wash them in
icy salt water of the sea
feet hurting from
cold when waves wash in

roar of water in our ears
hazy sun mixes wind
ocean stretching forever
surfers dancing waves

then walk back
--------our hands full

Whale Music

spray of white mist
vertical dissipating
grey back rolls forward
fin emerges

watching from sea wall
camera in hand
small boat nearby catches action

what is it about whales that commands
size
speed
intelligence
song
lungs
might

and we stand on the concrete edge
and try to take a picture

Eight Degrees

sometimes wet highway
descends into lush valley
I just coast and steer

Kicking Horse

I was an explorer today
finding my way through
rough
------rocky
------------ranges
following the river
through pass
I think I’ll call it “kicking horse”

on highway
with other explorers

but looking up
seeing the same snowy postcard peaks
the same stony crags
feeling the same shivery wonder

I found a pass to my heart

Flying

we fly through crowds of angels
wings pitted with pellets
as they flap furiously
forming a wake of whiteness
under the impression that good lasts forever
-------pudgy arms and legs never get older
-------pure laughter is always heard
-------hands always clap spontaneously
-------bright objects are always crawled towards
-------legs are forever jumping
but soon the crowds disappear
we are back on the ground
trudging through wet streets
thinking back on white-winged wonder

Prairie Boy

astounding flatness invades brain
dripping caves of thought
pondering cookie sheet geography

all is split open
exposed
raw
revealed to glaring sun

then merged
with distant thin line
linking earth and sky
at far end of prairie
mind

On Looking into the Future

fall moon
perfect roundness
bright in the night
sky
shining through curtain of cloud
speeding like a jet
sometimes peeking out to reveal
details on surface
then
slipping back behind cover
returning to the astonishment of
full moon
on a windy cloudy night

Goodbye

sometimes the wind changes direction

yesterday’s hot gusts
moist southern air
filled with stormy portents

today chilled constant flag stiffening slaps
from north
bend trees in opposite direction
------leaves twigs fall to grass hinting the farewell of summer
--------------as it travels away

we are left with fallen leaves and autumn’s sadness
looking forward to
reunion

Adventures

chair glides back and forth
stories spill out total truth
we are mesmerized

Playing God

in the lingering warmth of a sweaty august day
I crumple newsprint under twigs and leaves and
begin to burn flames starting tentative then growing
as I add old pallets and paneling and dead branches
from a pile in the woods orange fingers grab the
wood and reduce it to black glowing embers and
then to ash which either falls to the bottom of the
fire pit or drifts upward with the smoke in the wind
until it cools and then settles on the grass or the roof
of the house or the sidewalk where no one will take
notice the molecules of the burnt wood freed from
each other and on an endless journey

Any Dream Will Do?

at first
distant boom
thunder
but it could have been anything

then
hissing noise
on the roof
but we couldn’t see any rain in the trees surrounding the dome

music started
any dream will do
after song
it was definitely rain on the roof

and we could see it coming down
------hard
-----------with hailstones pinging on the metal

show stopped
while lightning did its thing
cracks splitting the din

dry and secure
under plexiglass dome
as storm fascinated gazing
eyes
and ears

what dream were we having
fame
success
love
or was it a strange night-time dream
of water coming up
------through crazy cracks
-------------in basement
--------------------trying to sop/mop it all up
it needs interpretation
like Joseph
who sang of rainbow coats
--------on the rainbow stage
----------------during a dreamlike storm

The Rudder

rough wooden rudder feels
good and
true in
my hand

as I uncertainly
-------angle the yacht
-------------against the stiff breeze
white fibreglass and triangle sails
the lake a shimmering highway of discovery

moving my hand one inch
makes the bow turn three feet

for thousands of years
people have sailed this way
wind harnessed by billowing sails
my hand holding steady

Sailing

waves lap against boat
wind ruffles white sails stiffen
angling cutting peace

Wedding Picture (August 18th)

we are in profile
your hand is on my chest as if to
push away
-------or about to grab my lapel
my black bow tie
-------partially hidden by my chin
your white hat angled up
-------frames your cream-like face
a red rose pinned to my suit
-------proves the picture is in colour
you’re looking up
I’m looking down
-------into your eyes

we are young
happy
swimming in a pool of love

this is hours before the wedding
in a little brightly lit studio
in Saskatoon

foreheads touching
laughter beginning to bubble up
an unguarded moment
caught
together
forever

Daughter and Dad

two hands one from fifteen-year-old girl blonde beauty
one from graying man raised collide a high five slap
after dimpled ball rolls across manicured grass
twenty-five feet dropping into hole perfectly putted
coming after stuttering struggles six strokes on one green
club grazing top of teed ball swing after swing after swing
on unforgiving fairway ball plopping in the water angling
into bush

then this moment of pure joy and
someone to celebrate with

Rainy Day

I sit on navy leather
savouring
crimson cherries
pits pinking white napkin on armrest

wind whipped drops
splash puddle
at end of driveway

golf lights up television
voices hushed
hailing sunny shots

a day inside walls
with the wonder of
home

Family Toast

long-stemmed clear goblets collide over dark table
declaring sixty years
white hair
resigned smile
she holds her glass
contemplating five lives formed
extended like limbs shooting out
over lawn
leaves fluttering in blustery gusts

our cupped hands return to own
winds waving

Heartburn

a forest fire in my chest
under red shirt
below thoughts of aging and
the need to eat better
inside house of carpets and white walls filled with framed creation
in the center of green grass and trees and living flowers
in the town of gray gravel and pavement
in the prairie of flat fields and tree lines
under sky of wind-formed clouds and sun breaking through
shining on
fires in Russia
floods in Pakistan
ice-cap melting

Verenicki

pale plump triangle
one of many on my plate
pocket of goodness

Gerald at the Beach

you loved shaping-----constructing
long snaky rivers
with reservoirs and castles
running back and forth pails in each hand
filling sandy holes
directing rivulets back towards lake

sitting in the sand stick-like legs doubled under
blue trunks covering thighs
spindle eight-year old arms braced at the side
head topped by white glow
-------reflecting sun’s shimmer
sand in piles around you

your building project
like your blocks in the basement
-------variations on the feed mill theme

a lone figure
water green and white
stretched out behind you
set
determined
your project

Willing Helper

you had to stand at a chair at the counter
white bowl
--------held with left hand
right hand
--------stirring batter
---------------with wooden spoon

mini-apron red polka-dots
sleeves pushed up
straight silky hair
--------shimmering blonde
large green eyes
--------intent on spoon
mouth formed in a proud smile
--------the smile that a three-year-old could have
----------------when I came home and you said
look daddy-----I made cookies today

Cousins

tanned arms cords of love
wrapped around your bodies
standing barefoot on dock

this was goodbye
after years of
growing-------up

on docks
at tables
in beds

dancing
laughing
singing

I see you
sitting in a pink inflatable
rope attached to boat
Karin at the back holding handle
Sarah at the front looking back at us
wide smile
pig tails
one foot extended
--------toenails red ready
for the ride

we look on
tears create clouds

you keep holding on as the future takes hold

Sister

glasses flash in the sunlight
she writes the crossword or
arranges scrabble pieces
------totally engaged
------------bringing all into fold
this is the
most
------important
----------------thing
---------------------right
--------------------------now
me
the little brother
standing in the shadow

voice
rising in excitement
hands gesturing the relevance of the moment
the sun’s glint
shines on us all

Cottage Poem #7 (Cassie)

on edge ready to leap
legs splayed tan curls splash laughter
eagerness thrills soul

Cottage Poem #6 (Sauna)

salty drops release
splashing pine boards

hazy hissing water
hits heated rocks

vapour rises surrounding skin
glistening glowing

I look down-----contemplating heat
emanating small stove
fire fierce through small window creating
a tiny solar system
of burning breath and
icy splash
no
in
between

Cottage Poem #5 (Poker)

the flip and flutter
shuffled
dealt
picked up
passed

the ting and clatter
stacked
pushed
thrown
gathered

the startle and murmer
stated
sung
shouted
laughed

the flicker and roar
determined
suspended
relieved
shattered…re-lit

Cottage Poem #4 (Waterskiing)

we skim the surface
knees flexed
eyes down
wind whipping hair
waves---------foam
flying by

holding on tightly
crossing wake------wary

alive

alert

fatigue enters body
muscles tremble

we try to get back home
before
having to let go

Cottage Poem #3 (Renewal)

cold wet darkness envelopes skin
millions of tiny algae
cloud clearness
sun slanting warms my head

I thrust up and curl
body slices down
touching bottom
fingers scratch sand

rising again
feeling water warm towards surface
face finds dripping air

back body float
freely refreshed

Cottage Poem #2 (Morning Sun)

reflection off dark water
squints my blazing face

looking out across shimmering ripples
radiating heat heals cool of nighttime

I raise my hand to block brightness

Cottage Poem #1 (Evening Stillpoint)

rippling lake lapping shore
dock juts water
voices echo family

my head falls back
seeing top of tall pine
a double tip
--------green fingers pointing
up into
pale blue and white wisps

as dusk deepens
into dark stillness

Setback

climbing to top of ladder
--------leaning against eaves trough

putting paint can and old blanket onto the garage roof

ladder begins to slip
--------scraping sideways

grabbing rungs
--------sliding down

hitting ground on feet
--------right foot rolled over

there was a scream

sitting on porch
--------pain like a million tiny hammers

hammering back the bent ladder
--------climbing back up to finish job

Paths

twenty-four years ago
little red hatchback packed
--------everything in its place
tracing a CAA line across Canada

a young couple camping
--------pup tent kerosene stove
taking in a world of wonders
Ottawa river valley
Montreal
Fredericton
Bay of Fundy
PEI
New England
Niagara Falls

reading books in the car
suppers at the crowded campsite

we set off together
creating our path tracing other paths
jobs
pregnancy
births
homes

mountains and valleys

and I look at our new little
red hatchback
sitting at this campsite
crows declaring the morning
coffee brewing
fire smoking

and smile

Buck

stepping tenderly
a lithe brownness
---------antlers taking shape

silently appears in our campsite

large round eyes speak of
another place

somehow he got here and now
where wild and tame meet

while we sit and drink our coffee
in this ancient forest

Morning Contemplation

branches reach into morning blue
birchpineoakmaple
a forest of thought
--------contemplating light
-----------------wishing water

roots underneath
a subterranean philosophy

leaves rustle in the wind above me
--------a formula of faith

Crossword

pen hovers over newsprint
series of squares
some blacked out
numbered clues

filling in letters
-------one word at a time

mind files through lexicon
each word affects other words
each letter is a clue
mistakes compound confusion

pen hovers…

Oma's Accordian

burgundy and buffeted
sitting in corner of closet
---------like a hiding child

buttons on one side
small pearled keyboard on the other
worn leather straps
sarastro written in fancy letters

unnoticed most of the time
sometimes seen but not seen
it’s not in good shape
one of the drones is stuck

I think
where does it come from
where has it been

it has been played often
but now it sits telling a silent song
of war
--------and migration
---------------and a sense of the value of things

Cousin

shock of curly reddish
tops head high and bright
beard without tinges of grey
sitting in orange shirt
telling inner thoughts of dark clouds
and struggles with sadness
blue eyes piercing polite coffee conversation
facing foggy future with force
of red and orange

Skeletons

leaves of mountain ash
eaten
leaving veins
like little skeletons

soon entire tree will be bare
skeleton tree
standing
dripping bleeding
with bunches of
red ornamental berries

experts say canker worms
but they are invisible

just leaf skeletons

then I see
brown bugs or beetles
on branches

wondering

Summer Moment

hands touch and hold on
walking portage avenue
grasping the eternal

Straight Lines

straight lines surround
standing in the prairie
gravel dusty roads meeting at right angles
horizon
------a thin level line
-------------with a cloudy sky stretching forever

fat familiar horn of approaching train
its rusty engine pulling aging boxcars
beside fields of half-ripe wheat and bright yellow canola

I see the entire train arrowing across the flat Assiniboine valley
and I think of earlier eras when men beheld iron giants
and saw their bison coloured land
-------disappear before their eyes

I remain on the gravel road
a lone figure waiting
---------curve
----the---------of the
on--------------------world

Good Shot

july sun glides through leafy layers
river calmly ripples through valley
soft green loveliness spreads across the horizon
gentle breeze buffets sun-kissed face

standing over the ball
I practice the swing
move forward
find the

sublime stillness

before a shot

then whistling swing
striking white dimpled wonder
it flies
into the sun sparkle
and back down

sublime silliness

Ladder

------------------------------------standing
----------------------------------in
---------------------------------splattered
-------------------------------shoes
------------------------------at
-----------------------------the
----------------------------top
---------------------------of
--------------------------the
-------------------------ladder
reaching ---------brush in hand
for the place where I need to apply bold strokes

green paint poured sparingly into pail
hooked on edge of ladder rung

looking down
seeing from above
flowers that surround the house
irises
brown-eyes
snaps
creating an explosion of colour and beauty

all stretching towards sun
which warms the sidewalk
and roof shingles
so that warmth radiates
back up
into the coursing convections
and currents
in the humid air

my mind
a jumble of colours and currents
trying to gain a new perspective

without spilling the paint

Strawberry Daiquiris

he fills blender with
bananas
-------strawberries
--------------------lime
-------------------------ice
----------------------------rum
and turns it on
the noise filling the room

I see the home of solid timber and open spaces
of carefully placed pictures
--------and table laden with her muffins and cookies
of sweet music and large windows
of laughter and chatter from countless get-togethers

the blender stops and out pours
the stunning sweet elixir
of friendship

The Ache

dark grey curtains
---------hang over windows
------------------obscuring the view
to the sunshine
and grass
and trees
and flowers

here inside it is a cool mustiness
---------of dizzy smells
------------------and dull pain that Tylenol can’t fix

the off-white walls reflect
the slow music coming
from the radio
and the house fills with an ache of

longing and sadness

Phenomenon

crack in cloud cover
lets through a line of sun’s rays
a necklace of love

The Circle of Art

fingers of possibility
hover anxiously
over black keyboard and
begin to depress square buttons
the mind carving out shapes in the
block of reality
that rests on the
lap of chaos
shavings falling to the floor
revealing
face of determined beauty singing
song of wild abandon
with notes going everywhere in five-four time
and lyrics typed out by
fingers on a keyboard

Summer Evening Ride

easy words fly back and forth as
we pedal the highway
two old green road bikes
my tires are low but who cares

last clouds take their leave and
the evening sky expands
forceful winds diminish

the road stretches out into the flat wonder of
Manitoba prairie

dairy farms invade the nose and
occasional Doppler engine sounds
dominate the ear as we crowd the shoulder

we turn around and catch the breeze at our backs
flying easily along with the prairie summer sun

Renewal

tiny flakes of green paint stick to my chest as I stand on a
ladder ten feet high scraping loose peeling paint off of the
forty-two-year-old facia and then apply a coat of white primer
which will protect the aging wood for another ten years or so
my hand gripping the baking roof and my hat brim lowered to
protect my eyes from the blaring sun voices singing from tinny
speakers sitting on the step ladder it will take a shower or bath
to remove the flakes

Folk Festival Poem #7 (Sunday Morning)

cooling breeze whispers love
--------across smiling lips singing
close squinting harmonies
--------reflect off white tent eliminating
shadows

songs mix with rustling leaves
--------tall trees standing firm
in sandy soil of birds hill

feet can’t keep still as
--------rhythm shouts love
across blowing wind

Folk Festival Poem #6 (Young Performers Showcase)

thirsty trudge
chair over shoulder
young voices beckon towards
quenching-------cooling-------shade

sun bears down
-------mistakes exposed
-------------lives revealed
--------------------everything in stark relief
for love of music

feet stomp------voices bellow
to quench the world into submission

Folk Festival Poem #5 (Hoots and Hellmouth)

red beard big glasses
passion of heated history
of greenwich cafes

Folk Festival Poem #4 (Green Ash)

jigs and reels ring out
connecting
past----and----present

past speaks with ballads of tears and tragedy
hard lives of hard dirt and want
---------celebrating with dances of pure joy and laughter

our feet moving to the ancient songs and stories
my eyes fill with knowing

Folk Festival Poem #3 (John K.)

poet plucks electric guitar
short cropped hair
white triangle t-shirt
under grey button-up
--------under canvas canopy
----------------under blinding cloudy drizzle

drops descend like carefully placed words of portend
mouthed by loyal literates

Folk Festival Poem #2 (Saturday Morning)

white drift of clouds
---------to the horizon
-----------------sun still sears through

random sounds of tuning and checking
spills over conversations like
drizzled syrup on my french toast this morning
---------sitting uneasily in my stomach

breeze cools

last night’s voice of bearded beauty
still lingers in
---------my clouded heart

jangling strings begin to play
---------clear out the
------------------stickiness

Folk Festival Poem #1 (Emmylou)

silver-white hair frames ageless face
dress loosely feathers around body behind her guitar
a look completed by the fine cowboy boots
a voice weathered by age and hard use
it’s hard to hit the high notes now
but it’s not the quality of the voice
it’s the way the song comes alive
when she sings
like a white dove taking flight and
soaring into your heart
making your whole body glow and vibrate
with the beat of the silver wings

Man vs Nature

killing ants on our yard white powder sprinkled on small
mounds black ants aimlessly (it seems) scurrying will this do
the trick or will I have to try something else later when more
hills have popped up in the meantime we keep mowing the
endlessly growing grass shaving the tops of the ant hills with
not-so-deadly blades remember this story about these huge ants
that attack a South American plantation as the owner tries
everything to destroy them and they keep coming but our ants
are only a small nuisance and I’m not much of a warrior

Tempest

approaching through little car windshield
-------roiling mix of dust and cloud and rain
----------------still feeling sun’s warmth inside car
------------------------driving street towards surreal upheaval

and still it surprises when it comes
---------boxes, papers, garbage flying across streets
----------------people whipped by wind and rain
========================young trees bowed from the invasion

safe in car we drive on into and through

Sun Day

warm rays enter skin
cooled by a gentle current
wafting through backyard

Coming Storm

a dark humidity hangs in the air
threatening thunder
big wet drops surprise arm face and
I head back in------------to air conditioned comfort
and see Maclean’s cover
an oil covered crane or stork
emerging from the sea
an oil spill threatens cataclysm
we can’t stop it
as the thunderclouds loom
and the air conditioner hums

Gretna on Canada Day

mosquitoes buzz, bite, torment in the muggy night
we stand in the grass outside old house (I grew up here)
roman candle lit sparks fly up with a bang
watching with old friends after a walk around the town
streets and buildings setting off sparks of memories –
---------Pete’s, Co-op Post Office
back lanes of kick-the-can
walking three abreast
our large bellies belying middle age
the memories thick like mosquitoes
buzzing, biting

Dessert Man

it’s the sweetness that tugs
me to the kitchen to find
dessert – cookies or cake or ice cream or squares or
chocolate – something to munch with milk or coffee

the smile of understanding
the hug of friendship
the laugh of togetherness

the meal sates the body
but dessert fills the soul

The Old Pinawa Dam

The sun sets on
these old stones.
Glowing through the
ancient-like frame.

It appears nothing.
Granite slabs
concrete boulders
faded walls and arches
covered with graffiti.

The dam stands
dead monumenting man’s
attempts to harness
earth.

Now, abandoned by man
machines, it statics time.
But like the river, which rushes
underneath
it speaks

1982

When I Love You

when it is you and I
two arrows through
---------time,
and we are the
world of whisper and eye

when we are separate----seeds
--------in two
worlds, growing and it is the
------------------future
of wish and prayer

when we meet the
world as two together
wising in the
------------present
of laugh and tear

1983