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