the grand river in elora

The cedar trees hang over the grand river
clinging to limestone cliffs
water flows below the land i sit on
carved out over years

spiders build webs over the ever-flowing river
while giant carp nose the fallen tree, nibbling it's cedar fronds
in the dark

across the river,
two white swans come along from the bridge to downtown
they stop in front of a house backing the water
as if conferring
finally one climbs up the bank and walks over to a wide dish
and eats for a long time
while her partner paddles the water, looks around
finally he concedes and climbs that bank
eat from the bowl with his mate

when she fills, she comes down to the bank and jumps into the water
he follows soon after
and they paddle back towards the bridge

i lay back and look up at the cedars
while birds have a shouting contest in the trees
and the light fades

childhood

I want to shrink to exist

Solely in the broad, brown west entrance stairwell of Connaught School

Where the primary kids climbed to their classrooms

And we took piano lessons in the rooms to the side

 

Between the playground where I got stuck on a skipping rope I was using to climb a slide

And no one helped me and I lay there for ages as the yard cleared

Until I finally realized I could just climb myself up

 

And the classroom where I want to paste all the things

And was afraid of everyone except my teacher

And then of her, when he told me to dial down the pasting

 

Ashamed explorer, scared achiever, trembling endless will to master

I want to live in the stairwell alone

Before, after and within my humiliations

And the feeling of being alone in a crowd

Here, I am just alone

And I can remember all the books read to me

And the books I’m going to read

Saturday

Could learn about medicinal plants via the TransitionTown group

at Bechtel Park on Saturday morning

Or could lie in the sun there and listen to the water bubble

Smell the damp earth and cedar

And empty my thoughts

Strange Street

A square sloping lawn with ancient trees

Down on Strange Street

With a mysterious art deco power station in the distance

And then the stream, hidden

All this, just before Victoria Street

Where the road opens out to bright sun again

 

This was once the further reaches of my journey south

My secret park

When Kitchener was only mine

wool and water

he was lovely
the hair on his arms like scented river rushes
i could gather to my breast

when i dipped my oar into the waters
he held me fast
we breathed in the late summer night
breath for breath

when he released the oar
suddenly
i was thrown into the river

oh but the rushes are sweet!
i reach for them
and they are always just beyond my fingertips
while his face
cheshire-like
fades into the middle distance

back in the boat
the dream rushes i collected
are already melting away
under spring skies
his cheshire smile
is all that remains

fading so slowly

spring

the field where they cut down the trees last summer
where i cried next to you
when we were first discovering each other

this spring is a sea of forget-me-nots

no matter the ruin
beauty returns

the beauty that we shared will
never be forgotten

winter

They are paving the north field

Where we lay in each other arms last fall among the wildflowers

I told you then, this beauty won’t be here forever

So let's enjoy it

Now the flowers are gone

And so are you

All beautiful things are fleeting

Though they seem eternal under the autumn sun