we trace the long curve
rise and fall, shuffle uphill
praising kinesiology
painkillers, gumption

who owns these ways?

those teenage magpies
underwear unpreened
who try out strut
and the sharpening of beaks

perhaps broad poplars
blanketing june in white
cotton of tomorrow’s promise

or the new comer family
renting first bikes, unsure
about english signage
who take our word for
the beauty of the trail ahead

this way belongs to spruce already versed
in that green which will carry
generations of songs large and small

and somewhere down there
rumpling the river’s sinuous cloak
old sturgeon, muscling on

while shoreward, washed
in morning rain, we trace
the long curve, summer
ringing in us all.

Today’s plant of the day is the poplar, or cottonwood, who cast snowdrifts all around us as we walked. More seeds hung like in mighty flags long River Valley Road. Honourable mention to the spunky little spruce, looking forward to his/her turn at being mighty and mysterious in decades to come.

Photo Credit: Gunnar Blodgett