Home is in the Bay,Despite many years away.Living in cities and towns far from the ocean,Coming back every summer like a devotion. So many moves over so many years,Through celebrations, losses, joy, and tears.Always returning to our family home,On the sea, in the Bay, wherever we roamed. My father’s piece of heaven, my mother’s garden,My […]
We’d once show love and affection,Through hugs and connection,And not just random faces on screens. She’s trying so hard to understandAll this technology, now at hand,And what this new experience means. She’s longing for family, for laughter, for tears,Feasting, rejoicing, alleviating little one’s fears.The bleakness in her tired eyes says it all. She doesn’t want […]
So near, so distantAir so softly white, tremblingTouches me gently
Convergence of disparate worlds of the mindUnaligned—a confident dissonanceHostile—the mundane trivialization of lifeArrogance forcing its philosophy as a means to controlSanity through manipulationA conformation of the soul that protects the idea of itselfSymptomatic forces perpetuating a crashing tide of tired thoughts When they have it figured out and close up shopMemories of the front put […]
Through her eyeswe are all drawnin to the oceanto the winterin our baythe storiesshe can tellof times gone byhow the wrinkles formedupon her cheeksfrom experiences long agothe green glass vasecould be brokenin the seaforming hundredsof piecesnew storiesto tellsea glassthat I now pick upon the shoresbecausewe are all connectedthrough timethrough the oceanin our eyesin our heartsin […]
Broken, blackened branches,sculpted by fire –Nova Scotian bonsai. by Lynn Reicker
Outside, the drifting snow accumulates on pine trees reaching toward a goose-grey sky. I watch a solitary Blue Jay fly where fading light at dusk illuminates the tracks a deer inserted in the snow which, should this wild precipitation stay as strong, will all be finely brushed away. I am at home. I have nowhere […]
Whenever I seemy stonesa three,I pause—to know,to sigh, to be.In all I have done,or not, or failed—in allof this,my three prevailed.My three who workedtheir way to me,to crack the calm,the storm,the sea.My three are here,they freed the caves.I watch them now,they skip the waves. by Melanie MacDonald
They’re terrible birds,says my granddad, an old farmer.Eating the crops, making a mess.We always used to shoot themwhen I was a boy. I watch for them,to see them glide and dip and swoop.Their wings gleam in sunshine like obsidian.Sometimes they fly in formation, andI think they’re playing. They’re cruel birds,my songbird-loving mother says.Eating other birds’ […]
