Day 19: Constant/Transient/Permanent

from the bee wing to the soul comes a thrum, at once low and above the mind line, fine and high, lime-bright tingle of song, shimmer on the lake of attention breath of trees, yellow from the pine arms to the sun a cloud rolls: that’s my love of a season, windborne marked by fragrant…

Day 6: Lungs

What do we really know? Rainforest lungs of the planet, and we northerners enjoined to rail against Brazilian excess here, in the temples of Canfor, Weyerhauser and further west, Macmillan Bloedel with their measuring eyes. My grandfather, too knew how to estimate, from the ground both the height of a tree and its likely board-feet;…

Day 5: waiting

in the trees, hung from a pine the rope and plank, above the root you kick to push, this same one causes you to tuck your feet up, if you’ve got someone behind you. the wheel rolls back here until time grants traction speak enough of you, no more push against the root, and lift….

Day 2: not taken

speak to me in must of grain-bins that willow hand left trailing, strums the fence. i never thought you’d go. same old well-trodden heartlines i chased you down a dusty driveway to tell you goodbye. you stood blinking hands full of watercans. i was leaving for the world, and you just trod on homeward. is…

Lemons

When life hands you lemons, praisethe lemon tree, bless the water, blessthe bees, thank the sun, revere the soilbreathe deeply of this, glory passedfrom hand to hand. O raise your voice in joyous salutationfor the seasons in rotation, spiralingseed to shoot to bloom to fruit, each treea true verse of the One Song, dancewith lemons,…

The Grove in the Night

It was night in Kyoto. In a grove on a mountain, in July 1995, as I was preparing to leave Japan, I received one of the great gifts of my life. It began with the Kyoto Connection, an international arts gathering. Over several months, I’d taken the stage at the Connection in various guises: as…

Late June Garden

Gratitude for the lilac white petunias tiny papyrus the boxes of garden, off-square the potato bathtub these hillbilly choices, my higgledy carpentry and green life that says yes nonetheless gratitude for the patio this ache in my back from the building of it that pile of bricks for the path yet to lay these eye…

Camino Edmonton Day 4: depths

In their black in dark hours, grandmothers crawl up the Way of the Cross, proclaiming by this deed, the immutable glory to come above Ajijic, knees raw, backs craggy, grandmothers and mountains bathe in Easter sunrise. Where the body shivers and aches, the spirit must step in. Where language and history differ, there too, spirit….

Camino Edmonton Day 2: Crossing

whitemud winds down brown and peaty, and on the boardwalk through willow breaks squirrel on a handrail, happy to eat offerings but quick to leap away – there is a line. below fort edmonton, in the forest, we discuss old names, dark histories how to teach and learn past potholes slippery with falling how to…

June 19, Camino Edmonton Day 1: Soft

Today was the first day of the Camino Edmonton, a light-hearted 5-day walk through our river valley via the network of pedestrian and multi-use trails available. I’m writing more indepth about it for a forthcoming magazine article, but thought I’d endeavour to capture each day in a poem. Day 1: Soft sand underfoot cleft between…

June 15: step

time goes anyway, whether you pursue your heart’s desire, or cram distraction down your throat this gift of a body, built to hold music, will resonate to all and any sound, so you have a choice step into the great song.

Guest Post: Another Storm, by Ellen Kartz

Yet another morning after yet another rain, the alley shows the proof of last night’s storm— the puddles in the gravel, in the pavement’s recesses. Trees always look greener in the morning. They suffer the worst in storms, but somehow manage to recover—taller, stronger. It takes us longer to find our strength again. We get…