The spring of a new adventure
has been wound up.
It twitches, waiting,
ready to explode into excited possibility.
poem- new boots November 14, 2015
New winter boots
ready to brave the storms
fake dead animal rising from their depths
a warning to wandering acrylics or polymids
the woods are not safe for the likes of you,
when it’s new boot hunting season.
.
.
My new Sorel boots- found in the 50% off rack. (Probably because of the fake fur tops?) My last Sorels I purchased in 1986, but when DH painted the front door in the garage this summer, he re-coloured them for me into ‘red-pink spray’. Time for an update, I think. The old ones don’t owe me anything! I confess, I am contemplating taking the poodle clippers to the overgrowth, though…
poem-mystery November 13, 2015
Listen to the rain
clicking against the windows
thudding on the roof
washing away whatever was waiting
yesterday, and cleaning for tomorrow.
poem- the day after November 12, 2015
snow falling
between the rain
the pavement becomes a black hole
sucking out the light
I return hoping
but the house is cold
and I must find
my own dinner.
poem-glory November 11, 2015
They listened to the call for glory and honour
marched away with smiles on their faces,
found horror in mud and blood
found sacrifice in trenches:
. sacrificed youth
. sacrificed lungs
. sacrificed sleep
Returned without friends
who call through the years
echoing in the quavers of The Last Post
of glory wrapped in mud,
of honour paid in blood.
poem-bring spring November 10, 2015
First snow
falls outside,
but I focus on spring
blooming on my ottoman
stems set in Aalto’s iconic vase,
a miniature Finnish lake,
and knit.
.
.
This is an Iittala vase designed by Alvar Aalto in 1936 and made at the Iittala glassworks factory in Karhula, Finland. Once upon a time, I lived in Karhula. (I learned to knit there, actually).
poem- slightly November 9, 2015
I’m here in my office,
not looking forward to this meeting,
shivering, despite my wrap,
thinking how I’m much rather
be wrapped by you.
poem- wild geese November 8, 2015
In half a V,
a line of five geese flies to the lake.
Moments later,
another half, line of eight
flies from the lake.
I’m waiting for the perfect V of twenty
or thirty birds, but times have changed
and half the flock
must choose to take the bus
these days, or perhaps, to walk.
poem- distant November 7, 2015
It didn’t touch in the right places.
It didn’t curve to the swells.
It didn’t dive into the depths
And yet it filled him up,
devoured him,
made him whole.
commentary- On an educator Prime Minister #1
#JustinTrudeau #cdnpoli
During Canada’s recent election campaign, the Conservatives denigrated Liberal leader Justin Trudeau because he had a degree in literature and was a drama teacher. (He also taught French and Math). They thought that made him incapable of running a country. I have taught Drama and French. I have a degree in literature. I smiled, because I truly believe that if you can manage a high school drama class, you can manage a country. If you were a good teacher, you’ll be able to manage that country with consideration, respect, and intelligence. As I see them, I will point out how PM Trudeau’s teaching experience is making him a good leader. These posts will be in addition to my daily poetry, so you won’t miss out.
Reason #1 why it’s great to have an Educator PM:
On the first day of session, Trudeau went to welcome all the MPs to Parliament Hill. He told reporters this would set the right tone, that regardless of party affiliation, that each MP is in this together, working for Canadians.
This is precisely the policy of teachers, who on the first day of school (and days subsequent, of course) stand at the doors of their classrooms to welcome students, judge their frame of mind, and set the tone of cooperation and connection within their class.
Shawn L. Bird 