Thursday, August 25, 2022

Sarah Loewen 1927-2022 (Elegy)

we are driving across 
the curve of the world 
when the news of her last breath 
        comes 

and we are struck by 
tears 
a mother lost 

and I look out at the fields 
stretching out 
and I think 
she was this prairie 

this former grassland 
of wind and sun and soil 
that feeds the world 
and touches teaches all with 
her kindness 

see her smiling eyes 
crinkled with Saskatchewan sun 
as she recalls her many many gardens 
of flowers and food 

and now she will be interred
in this rich ground 
and her spirit will rise like heat waves 
off the summer fallow 
to join her mother 
      and husband 
             and daughter 
                   and grandson
                 and granddaughter 
                               and great-granddaughter 
secure in a good life given on this earth
 

Thursday, August 4, 2022

play (Folk Fest '22 poem #4)

away from the jingle jangle of tarps and people 
we go off looking for… 

the bubble man is gone 
no one is on stilts 

just keep walking until  
we find the booth of toys and 
buy a ball for catch 

and then we play 
throw back and forth catch and miss 
miss and catch

ancient game of back and forth 
behind the tents where few people walk 
a couple observes from hammock and 
we chat as we throw 6 years old and 60 

and when we walk back 
he slips his hand in mine