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Soon, darkness recedes.
But tonight I wrap myself
in velvet-starred black.
Flat mapped names turn in-
to forested hills, roads wind
towards adventure.
Rumbles of thunder
promise that soon fat raindrops
will bring refreshment.
She said she felt like
a fairy princess, draped in
blue with beaded swirls.
Formally over
twelve years of learning to look
good on this one night.
Undercooked pancakes,
misspelled cards, weeds for flowers.
Love makes them perfect.
Deciding who to
take like negotiating
Mideast peace treaty.
In it she was arm
candy, someone that turned heads
unexpectedly.
Dog is lagging yet
clear skies pale green leaves urge me
to linger longer.
Where river meets lake
we stand as Toronto gleams
across the waters.
Riverside village
quaint without self-consciousness,
where arts mix with charm.
Just water on rock.
And yet, sheer power compels
visitors to gape.
She curls around the
baby like a spiral shell
protecting its snail.
An unexpected
crocus emerges, smiling
from a brown leaf pile.
Slanting through speckled
panes, turning cobwebs into
faerie gossamer.
Hills like cut paper
black against tissue blue skies.
Through poked holes, stars shine.
Unaware of her
beauty, unselfconsciousness
gives each movement grace.
From an estate sale -
pendulum clock. Westminster
chimes now count my days.
Tourists whisked to the
top while on tenant floors, one
hears “shhhhhhsss” like secrets.
In the skyscraper
canyons, light outlines moving
shapes sipping Starbucks.
“We’re domestic,” a
blonde woman tells her daughter
in line at the gate.
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