1947 Ford and Chevys passing striding horses
identical street cars at the corner
shops with piling in people
purses swinging in the rain
street clocks announcing four thirty
minions off work walking toward home
bicyclist meeting motorcyclist
Peel and St Catherine are alive
I watch from my window
two tandem horses
wearing blinders
having no idea what is happening
plain colored umbrellas at attention
drizzling rain out there
mostly adults yet one teen
Montreal is closing down for the day
Last night a six-year-old child was savagely murdered by her parents.
Last night an inebriated vet was beaten to death in an alley by teenagers.
Last night the moon cried in empathy as she watched these horrific things
Unable to aid, wishing she had not seen these things on her watch.
Last night a desperate young mother prostituted herself to pay rent
Last night a generous, giving honest police officer was killed for the fun of it;
A twenty-two-year old bicyclist was run down by a thrill-seeker in a hot car
Unable to devour these things, I refuse to read the newspaper this morning.
The early morning silence
of a well earned day off.
the long slow stripes of
sunlight and shadow cross
the patio floor, tiger like,
at sunrise giving promise
of a glorious day.
The anticipation of
possibilities
etched with the shadows
of long deferred tasks,
the urgency of yesterday
almost forgotten,
but still nagging
at the edges and
threatening to show up
tomorrow.
But now,
a favorite cat sleeps in
a pool of sunlight
on the driveway,
a lone bicyclist peddles
down the street,
silence broken only
by an occasional bird
I can almost capture
the joyful optimism
that came with
days like this
so many years ago
A barren wife envious,
of a passing child's carriage.
A single mom envious,
longing for the wife's marriage.
A larger girl envious,
of a thinning lady's frame.
A thin lady envious,
wishing to eat without pain.
A drink server envious,
of a glamorous house wife.
A drunk house wife envious,
yearning for a sober life.
A bicyclist envious,
of a shiny red Corvette.
A stressed driver envious,
wanting a life free of debt.
Be careful what you envy,
things aren't always as they seem.
Be grateful for what you have,
it could be another's dream.
On my golden back roads
Both sides of my road are clothed in gold,
Swaying trees carrying their autumn splendor,
And golden petals are floating gracefully to the ground.
Fragrant leaves cover the lane,
Rustling under my feet as I kick them
Into the heavily scented fall air.
Here and there brilliant reds
Break up the sunny yellow expanse,
And purple asters cluster in between,
Accentuating the bold color celebration.
On my right, I pass a white donkey grazing peacefully,
While a seriously pedaling bicyclist
Exchanges a smile and a wave with me.
Firewood, waiting for those colder days,
Is stacked on porches decorated with fat golden pumpkins.
I take a deep, satisfying breath of air,
Filled with fall scents and fall joy,
And smile.
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