and just like that

and just like that

it’s          winter

Alberta clipper kicks in autumn’s door

steel-toed boot denting

and latch tears through splintered frame

and just like that stands

there

hands on hips elbows    jutting

swirled by snow

and we in autumn’s leafy house

stand back and stare

eyes unblinking in dread

and say yes         yes         we know

and just like that

cars on couch

small fingers

eyes

intent on

pushing yellow car

racing striped

slightly forward on sofa fabric

and moving red dump truck

back       voice beeping

arranging tiny toy cars into

new configuration

only envisioned by dark orbs

of pj’ed boy

legs tucked under

little feed splayed and

I sit and tap my heart  

to this boy jazz beat

Amber Epp sings Joni at the West End

small fall bird hangs

upside

down

on spruce branch a second or

two

needles make it tricky

but that’s what she wants

to sing

this         song      now

full-throated

free

unafraid

light as air

swaying in autumn wind

winging away

autumn zephyr

what means this leafy wind

under open sky

and emptying branches

whining at the windows

kyrie kyrie eleison

gusting                                 gusting

until jacket flattens

against body

until mind flattens

crowding out creation

crowding out love

crowding out colour then

listenlisten

and listen again

to crying kyrie

Roger meets world

small sandals slap pavement

was drizzling but now it’s

heavy    hot

bags from the market

weighing down shoulders            arms we

shepherd boy

along sidewalk to the car

stopping for puddles and ants and sirens

and busses

this man sits against wall of bank building

beard an autumn nest long

face blank

boy and man reach eyes

of deep deep knowing                  boy gives a

stiff wave

man waves and smiles

eyes bright for this

infinite instant

poetry in motion

drove past a train

on the no. one

rail cars legato for miles

like words in a Joyce novel

I barely noticed

trains are there so often

like the fixed order on the

periphery of our lives

the world doesn’t stop

even though we are heading to

the hospital or funeral home

hand pulling at the face and chin

feeling stubble of life’s resistance

but that day I looked

and saw the beautiful

graffiti on one of the cars

all it said     poetry     said it all