snow begins in 21 minutes

blizzard warning morning 

something to wake up to 

on this day after solstice 

longest night after shortest day 

but now light lengthens more each week 

as winter grips our wrists not letting go 

denting white finger marks on skin 

eyes look upward for the Christmas star 

Jupiter and Saturn aligned for the first time in 800 years 

but clouds cover and street lights obscure 

and so the snow will pile up 

and winds will chill 

and we will imagine an infant born  

vaccine hope

cat lengthens on loveseat 

chocolates invite round coffee table 

Bach’s Weinachtsoratorium waltzes room 

triangle tree shape lights corner 

flakes chaotic dance through window 

and here I am alone 

heart full of the gyrations of 

COVID advent

advent 2020

little wood block painted 

green 

coiled wire glued on top 

rising up in kinks and 

curves 

suspending a Christmas bow and 

a wiry star 

swaying slightly and 

bouncing on its 

coils 

pathetic really 

this decoration made by a child 

with unsteady hands 

and on the side 

in gold juvenile cursive 

“wise men still seek him” 

Ha - yes

welcome James

slumbers blissfully in happy arms 

little fist covers ear 

placid eyes closing off the world 

for all eyes rest on him 

the focus of warm flannel 

and soft light 

we can’t hold him but 

we hold out our hearts in 

thanks for this joy 

in these sorry times 

in this wintry place

Roger poses in the woods

stands so softly

in bed of branches and leaves 

tiny birch with gold leaves 

rises up front leg 

hands curled like autumn 

hang lightly at sides 

straw hair a jangle of curls 

blends into background blur 

oh he is a junior Puck ready to circle 

the globe to find the perfect plant of love 

this moment of stasis so rare for he will run 

and jump and test his body on the path 

yes this you can see in those 

tentative dark forest smiling eyes 

prairie eagle

across highway to field

grace glides with single wing wave

white head proud alert

Lynda paints hymnal

voices sing bright colours into being 

together bring olive branch into swirling focus 

red purple yellow green and blue in centrifugal sky 

centered by inner cross 

all in starry harmony 

extended to infinite master of the universe 

worthy of praise 

    bearer of burdens 

        hearer of prayer 

            center of meditation 

                giver of love and law 

so let us sing beneath the eagle’s wing 

fishers we

Biden wins (for Lisa)

paint a little blue boy 

with golden hair on craggy cliff 

striped socks and gold trumpet 

standing in a sea of purple 

blasting bubbles into ether moon 

dripping honey above his head 

streaks of blue yellow pink and turquoise 

form crosses 

this boy with perfect posture pulling 

breath from somewhere deep within 

announcing hope and promise and possibility for 

a craggy world gone wrong 

in the penultimate moon 

of a year gone wrong

pandemic

we distance we 

nod we wash 

we mask we 

isolate we quarantine 

we cancel we 

bubble we zoom 

we cohort we 

sanitize we test 

we wait we 

result we count 

we hospitalize we 

icu we stream

we lockdown we 

mourn we 

long for an end

squirrel thoughts

quick 

nimble 

unerring 

agile 

furtive 

leaps branch to branch 

short explosive jerks 

tail for perfect balance 

so many bare branches to explore 

swaying slightly after landing 

but never in danger of falling 

kinda like Dizzy or Oscar 

scaling the treetops of blues 

and here we are 

bumblers 

so careful and deliberate 

stepping in shit 

time 

and time 

and time 

and time 

again 

October snow

and then 

it’s white 

all the green and brown and red 

of October 

blanched with first snow 

and a small pine branch has broken 

off the tree and lies on the grass 

all snowy 

a little mound of twigs 

like a small pyre 

it would burn if match were lit 

beneath 

and then we could 

sing 

a farewell song to sun-warmed ground 

modal harmonies 

slowly descending 

into sad sudden snow-washed winter

West Hawk Lake October 2020

on the rocky cliffs 

above this meteor lake 

    with a chill brushing our cheeks 

    and sun dappling through clouds 

caught by beauty of late fall leaves 

reflected on still deep water 

    reaches fully into you pulling up 

    memories like tangled ropes 

for we’ve been here before 

on this pre-cambrian rock 

    at this ancient crater 

    singing our songs of love and faith into the familiar forest 

Trump haiku (last one)

we are counting days

‘til you sick tree are chopped down

thud heard ‘round the world 

pictures at Fort Whyte

this place with paths 

and bridges over wetlands 

with ducks and geese and martins 

with bison and deer 

with aspen and maple 

and oak leaves yellowing and falling 

we meet at this place 

and stand together in this grove 

in this dappled light 

captured in our autumn colours 

in this place of preservation

pallbearer

Dear Tim 

    I carried your ashes part of the way to the gravesite 

on a windy fall day 

timeworn trees of Gretna swaying 

you a constant weight 

in my hands 

gripping 

as we all trod together 

the prairie path you loved 

until we stopped under the maple 

welcoming branches 

where your mother and father sat waiting 

and Dave spoke 

and Vic sang 

and Steve read

and we learned about the blanket 

that would enwrap you in the box

inside the velvet bag 

and we said goodbye through tears 

for here you can rest 

for my arms could only carry you 

a short walk 

but now arms everlasting hold you 

all this just to say so long

my friend

eroica

when Ludwig imagines 
this symphony 
out of  17th century air 
he has Napoleon in mind 
great victor and revolutionary hero 

and then Bonaparte declares himself emperor 
and with furious ink-stained hand 
he rips off the dedication page 
jagged edges along the left side 
crumples up thick paper and throws it to the ground 
shouting German consonants spitting 
now too he will tread underfoot the 
rights of     man 
become a tyrant 

but the manuscript survives 
shouting in polyrhythms 
the breaking of chains of darkness 
the slivering trumpet of light 
through the cracks in the ceiling 
of our mental prison 
just listen

green September

fingerpick guitar strings
of early September chill and
look out at this green autumn


still slowly growing
voice reaching to sun
song of ineffable warmth


singing farewell
    farewell summer
        farewell wondrous light
            farewell kind evening breeze


you want to grasp and hold
in fingers unequal to the task
but at least the song is complete
strings vibrating resonant

boy's toybox

this sunroom

allows play

here are bicycle horn

circular car ramp

green racer with yellow spoiler

big orange snowplow/sander

green street cleaner

mini cars and trucks all aerodynamic and candy coloured

pirate telescope

robocar transformers

Roy        Poli         Mark     Bucky

kalaidescope

monster truck

tow truck that works really well see?

light sabre

sunshine through

glass doors framing these imaginings

August still

still August

no wind leaves

hang limpid

crickets sing constant

sun warm on my neck

fragrance of tomato feathering through screen

zinnia’s orange bloom attracts hummingbird

wasps circle search for way in

August still

in holding pattern

club lifted before the swing through the ball

on the sixteenth tee

still August broken

ushering autumn

Rushing River

we walk rocks and pine roots

through forest path

sandals straining

around twisted shapes

up and down slopes and wooden steps

beside water calm

to get to the ear-filling falls

over rounded granite

a constant washing

and then the walk back

brook on the left

watch the path ahead

feet finding way

midsummer

watch the sprinkler send

small                      streams                up

into soft summer air

and drizzle in droplets on garden

growing

potatoes

beans

carrots

beets

lettuce

tomatoes

cucumbers

dill

squash

zucchini

all green leaves and forming fruit

for this is languid summer

when a walk in the woods

can bring blue saskatoons into fingers

dripping with rain

sweet explosion of wild fruit

between teeth

so watch and warm to the water

and sun of life’s glory growing

Trump haiku 19

G.O.P. follows

him like lemmings off a cliff

fox calls it courage

ping

there’s this sound

when a fly heads straight into a window

like a ping or a tong

but not exactly

it wants to get out but can’t conceive of glass

only the air currents and sun

and the existence of sugar

somewhere

it will try again and again

at different windows

or the same one

it doesn’t matter

I watch from my spot on the

sunroom couch somehow interested

in this drama      pinging against

flying the current and sun

aware

of something

sweet

beyond

fugue

this fugue by Bach imagines an uphill walk

every leg muscle fraught

and yet all I do is walk across level lawn

to the corner by the path with step ladder climb

up and tie a rope around stunted pine

I feel my senior lethargy in my slow measured gait

slow and steady wins the race

I say to myself

like the turtle under carapace

back and forth now with chain saw from Sears

this from J’s father so many years ago first

cut a notch eggplant size to aid in the felling

& then start the cut see all the ladybugs on

this bark startled by the vibration cut until the chain misaligns

goes rogue

like a friend bootlegging Drake’s latest anti-dance demo

so I sit with wrench & re-align & get back to it

until it’s time to pull the rope and watch

the needled life thud on the brown grass

& then on to the clean up

put pine cones in a bin and start cutting off branches

until the chain slips off again and again

sit and fix             sit and fix

these small octothorpe blades hashtag my father’s fingers

thick with work in back garden singing Verdi and then come in

oh he loved his thick milk

soured whole milk and vinegar

with spare ribs or cucumbers

oh tastes of childhood

he probably never did what I did next

pushing the trunk off the stump & falling over onto my nose

scratching wrists up to elbows

probably paperback karma

for depriving the birds of one more tree

oh peristeronic crime

oh uphill Bach-like climb

oh this life

birds on a Tuesday morning in June right after the solstice

its just that

when the heart is a weight

you carry

‘cause you can’t get together

to say goodbye to a sister

and you can’t hug

a friend hello or

so long

and you can’t visit

just anyone

and you can’t sing in a group

as one

and you can’t cheer together

for a curtain call

or an encore

or a goal

or sit hushed together waiting

for the pay-off pitch

the sweet songs of prairie birds

in a lush back yard

sun filtering through leaves

like maple seeds

lighten the load

after the storm

grass reaches green

lillies yellow limp

puddles pool calm

coolness awakens

irises bow purple heads

maples turn rainforest

world rights itself

after searing heat and wind

Carrol Loewen (1951-2020)

had a way            a style

distinct

inner farm girl

outer urban chic

vivified a room she

entered

hands clapping your presence

with full presence of her being

laughed at

life

whether kind or unkind

for now was now and that was all

painted a life where she

was

broad stylish strokes

in schools with people in places she lived

a canvas full of colour

Roger on trampoline

the up and down

the stretch and rebound

the arms for balance

the feet set free

the laughs and calls

the did you sees

the hat brim flop

the constant grin

the dry wind gusts

the constant chatter

like water over rocks

the bounce in the step of life

mini memory

who do you remember

what do you remember

mini golf at Falcon

and I got  my putter and dimpled ball

in the booth

was Miss Dyck

my grade three music teacher

so pretty

so cheerful and

there was a crack on the pavement

where my black and white runners stumbled

I didn’t love hockey

or baseball so much

reading and history came later

but I remember

I was eight

when I learned that I love to sing

Prairie Tallgrass Preserve

we walk the spongy path of spring

on this Sunday in May

fine droplets splash

up to knees

listen to birds sing in the tall dried grass

of last fall

we want to know more

about these birds

these trees

these plants

these lives

that survive in this ancient Agassiz lakeshore

more questions than answers always walking back

to Honda CRV

three boys

early autumn evening

sky dusking

dew damp

three boys wrestle on the front lawn

like Crusher & Mad Dog

Bockwinkel  & Gagne

figure four leg locks

half nelsons body

slams & sleepers

grass stains on knees & elbows

& endless play-by-play

for these were days before

leaves falling before

winter cold before

the leaving behind

fruitless naming

this four cornered

sunroom is full with

growth

tomatoes

violets

beans

melons

basil

ferns

daisy

petunia

all that I see and can

name

but there’s more of

course there is always more

and naming isn’t enough for you

cannot say a spell to carry the shape

and curve and perfect green of a tomato leaf

hanging still on a stem

every day a little louder

song in thrall to light and

water

but still we try

with words rubbed smooth to fill a page

a square of sun

stunted

this northern spring salt

in our cuts           buds neither in

or out holding breath

I sing May

I sing May voice

craning to edge of June

I sing May song

bursting leaf buds

I sing May words

distinct whistles of wrens and killdeer

I sing May melody

sways strong spring winds

I sing May tempo

of darting daring leaping child

I sing May key

of flower buds and bumble bees

I sing May

in service of spring

lux aeterna

cat in the sunbeam

major chord modulates

trees shadow road

sky domes blue

soprano wings tip to tip

rooted seedlings green air

sparrows dip jerky beaks

small boy turns on bike with smile 

house shadow defeated 

progressives

hah

glasses broke last week

right in the middle of the bar

that connects two halves

these progressives now separate

now isolated monocles

& so I take tape clear

& wrap & connect

fix to flimsy wearability &

order new eyesight online

what

I wonder

will I see different and new

in these new unbroken times

prophet

a bird is on the top twigs

of tallest tree

down the path

swaying in the breaths of wind

effortless balancing act of

impressive proportions

I get my binoculars & see that it’s a

crow

black feathers preening in the sway

it’s no doubt speaking

a prophet of things to come

sun

or cloud

cold

or warmth

love

or hate

soil

or stones

life

or death

but I cannot hear

I only see the topmost sight

& then it slowly takes wing

the message sent

snowy morning post-Easter

April post-Easter

in cold COVID time

snow frosts yard

every    few        hours

like icing on paska  

but no multi-coloured sprinkles

& we wait for spring

love-shedding sun

to lighten dark spirits

dark minds

inside four walls

of pandemic isolation

look out window

past trees            past clouds         past skies

to eternal & touch the risen one for hope

beyond this knowing and unknowing

beyond this unprecedented precedent

beyond this stasis

& it shall descend with sunny sprinkles

COVID Good Friday

Bach sonata slow

solo double stops

like steps to the hill

wooden violin on neck

bow stroking gently

John on stage alone

performs to empty pews

camera a river to lonely homes

we watch in two minute

delayed lag

tears welling up

for we must slowly walk

this lonesome valley

hillward

Trump haiku #18

oh you hateful man

you even spoil our simple

Rook game trump-a-lump

Roger explores town

there is a balm…

in spring

with a boy on a balance bike

in village with puddles and mud

when he pushes so fast and then

glides through feet in the air

to other side

unhindered

daring

free

clear voice up to sky

so keep pushing forward

to the next one

and the next one

and the next one

because it never gets old

there is a balm

compost

full now

with frozen bits

of peel and scrap

after long winter two

black bins at yard’s edge

and when sun’s flickers glance

it thaws and settles slowly slowly

decaying into organic mixed matter

that can be turned into the soil where

we grow flowers and carrots paying heed

to the great curved arrows of life in our world

wear a mask at all times

signs line the

h a l l w a y in the hospital

here at the front lines

in the fight against this new

s t r a i n

as we keep our         d i s t a n c e and

isolate and

glove up and

do not gather and

cover our smiles

remove our humanness

to keep alive as people

but each day the smiles r a d i a t e

through the masks

and we connect six feet a p a r t

waving through the window

at friends out for a walk

water beads

begin with tiny dreamy orbs

multi-coloured

hard

hundreds

pour bouncing into clear tub

add water splashing

till tub is half-full and

wait       wait       wait       and they will

grow      grow      grow

taking on water to become

soft worlds of neon

purpleorangepinkyellowtealblueblackandsparklingclear

and we like to

sort        them

into little bowls

of gleaming dreams

psalm XVI

north wind winters through

picking up

licks

of snow

lining down roads and ditches

leaving curved organic roadside ridges

of manic March

on this lonely prairie mindscape

waiting for spring

COVID-19-POEM

in these days children still laugh and play

in these days we do what we can

in these days we try not to worry

in these days blue sky and sun

in these days we wash our hands

in these days we watch the news

in these days we do not hoard

in these days snow starts to melt

in these days so much disappointment

in these days all plans in doubt

in these days we make music

in these days we make art

in these days we write

in these days we connect carefully

in these days we take care of each other

in these days love still wins

my mother's crossing

leaning on the salted railing of the Volendam

June 1948  

facing west with weary eyes that have seen it all

looking to start again in Canada

25 years old

refugee

six years of war

movement

upheaval

she will count on the kindness

of near strangers

in a far land

goes down

below deck to create another home

in small berth with

mother and sister

they have left her brother behind

and this is what her mother speaks about

hands wringing

eyes welling

how will three women make it

so far from the familiar

and they all begin to weep with

fear

sadness

relief

anticipation

hope

despair

not knowing the iron

in the spine of all three of them

will see them through

these resilient bodies (for Lisa)

Winnipeg wind shudders Main street’s homeless

         we park and hunch to the edge

brave boy plays an old upright

for quarters  

rooms busy

teeming life and completion

these bodies so new to this winter wind

stand proud

hands                    on                           hips

yellow shirt with coloured heart

ready to love past the trauma

on the wall

f  e  a  t  h  e  r

against the white world

surviving the past into the present

protects these framed prints of

fledgling

fearsomeness

so

don these boxing gloves

and stand your

sacred ground

thoughts on a February afternoon

saw a bald eagle on my

way home Emerson would have been

proud clung powerfully to an upper branch white

head against blue sun

warming shoulders where wings fold in and around

built to see

and soar

and dive

to grapple

and climb

rodents and fish helpless in her grasp

talons tight as she ascends

no mercy

on my way home saw a

bald eagle

flowers for J.

bought twelve red roses on Valentine day

two dollars per

at the supermarket because

well

now look at ‘em

unlocked revealing

stratums of rubicund petals

layers of meaning untucked saying

well

and here it is

days later

still facing upwards

unbowed

still fresh              still strong           still summer

fanning out from vase in a transcendent expression of

well

love

minus 28

sharp shadows cross yard

sun bejewels bedazzles

snow past cutting edge

quinzees on the prairie

two moondrop knolls of snow

large and small in back yard

and in acrylic

dug out and ready for you to scuttle into dark opening

take a snack and cocoa and light a candle

out of prairie wind

let body heat radiate right to silent snow walls

that layers between you and vast red sunset sky

and skeleton trees

let this live in your painted moonscape of memories

long after the spring sun melts

these houses of parental love 

black cat

crosses          my          path

every    single    day

silent feet on sinewy legs

ready to leap

negative space with

spring green eyes

I’d take a picture but my phone fails

nothing but black

alive in this presence

or absence

for with snow falling soundless

on white winter world

little inky prowl fills

a              furtive                  need

Trump haiku 17

three years is enough

to endure this terrible

unkindness; remove!

psalm XV

we walk through

snow and cold and drive

shoulders convex

on iced street

whiteness drifting

we’ve heard the third

Eroica

time shifting magic

triumph and tragedy in the spirit of

humanity

when in a blink earth shifts

and tires drift and

we gently stop backwards

you are there in the

major and minor

in the hunch

in the drift and shift

in the forte and piano

in the father and son

walkie talkies

I found them on his shelf

in a ziplock

and magic ensued

voices thrown from room

to room

voiced waves transformed

into signals so simple

now unbound by

trick of invention

so that this small boy can whisper delight into my ear

oh to ziplock these cries of delight

to Roger almost four

twining your way

deep into our hearts

like unbroken viola melody

with sweet chords

and unabashed feeling

strong legs run and jump a perfect arc

you test the boundaries of patience

learning

learning  

learning

blond wispy hair curling upward  

and with laced up skates

you balance ice and wind beginning

to glide through

bumpy patches on this makeshift rink

intact

December

unkind winds sweep ice

walk warily soles slipping

carols hum          reassure