Poet Laureate, Brighton, Ontario, Canada
A Walk with Kim
Kim and I went for a walk
down to Salt Point this evening.
Last night was clear and calm
with a bright full moon
that shone on snow
painting deep-blue shadows.
Tonight the wind blows
over the lake from the southeast.
Though moonless
the drifting snow glowed
as if the light were lifting from the ground
more purple than blue.
Ice crystals pelted
our backs and whistled
over our hoods as we slogged
to the point where we met you
for a swim only two month ago.
Our penetrating walk
took us past crashing shore
tectonic plates pushing
pebbles into growing mounds
for next year’s beach.
These slabs of ice reminded me
of flying over Labrador with Kim and Bill
on our way home from Germany.
Gosh, what year was that?
we witnessed vast mile upon mile
sheets of ice slowly crashing
one into the other
barren land and empty sea stretching on forever.
Kim and I sat huddled
listening to the wind whipping
through branches.
We heard our own breath
soughing through our ice encrusted scarves.
A remarkable absence of clucking, swooping
squawking. We were the only beings
walking on this hallowed ground
present and timeless.
Upon our return
ice chafed our faces
as we plodded
through rising
drifts we could only see
inches in front of our frozen stride.
Pressing on we reached
our ‘Cuba beach’
as we’ve fondly named it
dipping east under
arms of weeping willows
all stunningly calm there
the wind blew above our heads
instead of directly into our faces.
We stood and relaxed
arm linked into arm
for a few minutes
simply relishing the moment
of place and time.
today, tomorrow or yesterday
June 10, 2021
Dear Basu:
Is it today, tomorrow or yesterday in India?
What time does the dark dream
of this endless pandemic start and stop.
Does your past, present or future
come before or after mine in Ontario.
I have such a hard time keeping track
of the earth spinning around the sun
at gargantuan speeds, unfathomable,
you on one side of this big blue marble
me on the other simultaneous yawns
of waking and sleeping. Rubbing eyes
at the same time, pillow hot, pillow cold,
hungry for life, hungry for sleep. A poem
streams from finger tapping keys
or tumbling into dreams.
For a week we had 30+ oc you at 40+.
I do hope you have a/c to help
keep you smiling with your kids and husband
at your covid lockdown dinners. For me
I am just at my computer, working, working,
publishing, writing, sleep, eat and a bit of TV
between more writing, sleeping and eating.
Basically all is well here
on the sunny side of the earth creeping
into the dark of another tomorrow. I trust
all will be well with you as you wake
to watch, to use your words,
your “parents withering in this pandemic”
watching the hourglass drain
the sands of time over their patient quietude,
a quickening river
on the way to their endless horizon.
Hugs from Canada.
tai
