roots and branches

chain chews bark like butter

this tree will come

down

trunk

by

trunk

six large fingers growing from base

each one with myriad branches thrusting

out

many dead sticks

ready to burn it

just outgrew our yard

leaves blocking light

roots sucking water

look at ground and imagine

system of roots singing down

and out

stabilizing

steadying

feeding

supporting  

canopy of green

towering

shading

protecting

cooling

who am I to cut it

down

Henry V at Shaw Festival

in this trenchant trench

we nest

nestling in for duration

diaries and letters our leaves

and feathers and

sing over and over again the

paradox of beauty and

honour

wallowing in mud and

blood king in tattered army blanket

justifying it all barely believing his own words as

guns interrupt song marching in

deadly silence into darkness

until lights bathe this hospital white

sheets white walls bouncing back voices

struggling to still

sing with any conviction when death dares

approach comrade in bed beside it’s too hard to even eat and

yet we sing because we must

until a kiss transports and brings love

too close

too real

too far away

Lake Ontario

blue of sky turns white just

before the horizon of water

blue

we walk along the beach of this

immense lake cool water lapping

ankles

sandal straps linked through

fingers at this place where

river

meets lake old old town of

English tea and lawns wearing

shrubs

and trees like dinner jackets but

here by the water rocks and logs

strewn

random beauty just gaze the

horizon and think

thanks

Roger at the GO station

this boy likes buses and trains

that GO

and he knows this place

of grown up commuters

diagonal lanes for buses to

Toronto

and sliding doors to enter station

where our adult voices of caution shutter back

in frag   ments

this boy likes to go see trains

bolt through the doors

curly blondness determined to

stand the platform to watch the

railed reality

then mighty little legs climb

balcony to look

down on people buying tickets

to far far away

and run so so fast to the other stairway

and then down and up again until we go home

walking the top of every large garden rock he sees

hoping to GO again tomorrow

Sheryl Crow (Folk Fest 18 #3)

gold light washes stage

she struts right edge unafraid

this is her music