Palimpsest

Prelude

This place, this place, this time

Oasis in the cosmopolitan swirl of city life,

An urban Eden near at hand

Yet miles afar to questing boyish dreams.

Pillared oaks and lofty maples,

Red pine, Scots pine, Jack pines,

Shading sparrows, larks and Sunday lovers.

Pungent with pine and last year’s rot

Crackling beneath my sneakered feet,

Spinning keys and acorn caps

Lie scattered on the grass

Sweet scents from exotic parfumeries

And colours hazed and glazed with dust

And summer’s verdant pollen.

The snap of twigs and distant river-rush

Played music to my ears.

The Humber, rushing, spinning,

Stones dashed together

Faint rhythm to the water’s noisy rush,

Then lazing in quiet foam-flecked pools,

Pausing in a frantic rush to

The distant lake below.

Stones to pick up and examine

For hidden prints of ancient shells,

Stories laid down in layered sand and silt

Compressed by time

And weighted down by layers above,

Or send them skimming and skipping

On the water’s mirrored surface.

Adventure Land, Tomorrow Land

And Fantasy that fed the willing minds

Of children bound, most days,

To books and chalky boards,

Sums and conjugations rattling

In their heads, crying for release.

Breathless countdown

To weekend fun and frolic.

Summer Solstice

Games of tag and hide-and-seek await

Where sticks and stones

Were not for breaking bones

But substitute for bats and balls

Perfecting hand and eye coordination.

The river marked our far frontier,

No bridge nor crossing

Gave access to foreign lands beyond.

The river marked our realm of make-believe

While to the north, twin ribbons of steel,

Leaping high from bank to bank

Dared reckless fools to cross

And dodge the roaring engines

Drawing freight and faceless passengers

To unknown destinations.

Winter Solstice

Winter’s cold and snowy blankets

Marked the season of downhill racers,

Yelling, screaming, then pleading

To have their sleds or plastic saucers

Or cedar-slatted toboggans returned

Up to the crest by puffing, sweating parents

Willing for at least five times, no more than ten.

The early evening’s hush descends

Cushioned in a veil of white and cold dense air.

The hardwood trees, bare arms up-stretched,

The pines brought low to touch the ground

Each bearing their share of winter’s burden.

And if luck should hold and skies are clear

A silver dollar sails galleon-like between the branches

To shatter in a million shards upon the ground

Surpassed only by the stars above.

Vernal Equinox

Trilliums and violets announce the park’s rebirth.

Violin scrolls of pale green fiddleheads

Peak curiously through the leafy flotsam,

Waiting to spring into life in a grand flourish.

Ice cracks and groans in the river below

Piling grand staircases on the shore

Sweeping clean the dried remains of Fall’s demise

The pungent scent of rot and decay

Lies heavy on the ground,

Not unpleasant, but rich and full of promise

And ringing with exuberance.

Autumnal Equinox

Summer’s energies all spent

Shedding green for browns and or vivid reds

Then lay aside survival’s struggle,

Dot the I’s and cross the T’s

And close the books on this year’s ledger.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow”

Quoth Juliet to her Romeo