Christine Lowther photo
Here I am,
sitting at my desk
in front of the window
on a rainy Tuesday, so grateful
the rain has finally come.
Everything green is thirsting,
leaves turning their faces up
to catch every drop, flowers
drooping, waterlogged; soon,
they will drop all their petals
as summer drifts away.
I see the slugs are back:
trying to make a home in the lily fronds.
I move them off and bring the plants
into the lobby, hoping they will last.
The wind chimes out my bedroom window
sound like church bells, deep and resonant,
the breeze moving them gently to and fro.
In spite of the fact that the earth is spinning
wildly on its axis these days, and all manner
of mayhem is occurring all over the globe,
that on my street, they are felling trees,
habitat for owls, woodpeckers and Stellar jays,
in spite of the fact
heavy equipment is biting hungry chunks
out of the neighbourhood,
and I am hearing the whine of chainsaws,
the thump of trees hitting the earth,
all day long
- in the season of wildfire and drought,
when we have never needed trees more -
that on my street, they are felling trees,
habitat for owls, woodpeckers and Stellar jays,
in spite of the fact
heavy equipment is biting hungry chunks
out of the neighbourhood,
and I am hearing the whine of chainsaws,
the thump of trees hitting the earth,
all day long
- in the season of wildfire and drought,
when we have never needed trees more -
I have to report
(things having gotten so dire)
that I have learned to appreciate
an ordinary day when no crisis
is occurring: grateful for each breath
of rain-freshened air.
We have come to the time of
"at least": (there is no flood, storm, fire
or earthquake here, we still have homes,
and, thankfully, don't know what's coming).
We accept with pleasure
this rain-soaked, autumn-kissed day,
this grey sky we have
waited for all summer.
that I have learned to appreciate
an ordinary day when no crisis
is occurring: grateful for each breath
of rain-freshened air.
We have come to the time of
"at least": (there is no flood, storm, fire
or earthquake here, we still have homes,
and, thankfully, don't know what's coming).
We accept with pleasure
this rain-soaked, autumn-kissed day,
this grey sky we have
waited for all summer.
Yesterday was blue.
Today there is
a misty seascape
in my heart.
Today there is
a misty seascape
in my heart.
Day One of Wild Writing: the italicized lines are taken from Christopher Wiseman's poem "Calgary 2 A.M."
I like this, Sherry. We do have to appreciate those ordinary days when there are no crises in our midst. I like this poem because it is written about 'here' and 'now' and just what is being experienced in your world.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness it's finally raining in Canada. I can understand your mixed emotions. These are dark and desperate days but at least we are still experiencing some semblance of seasonal shifts in the weather. Enjoy the rain (and the slugs) - Suzanne - wordpress blog Wayfaring.
ReplyDeleteIt's getting difficult not to feel guilty when we experience even temporary grace, but long awful seasons do end and there is a span before the next catastrophes, or even an island of relief despite the wrong continuing all around - a poet's joy cannot be abandoned when and where it arises ... Why then bother to write? Lovely hushed and lush moment here Sherry. - Brendan
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