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| poet Rob Smith |
This weekend was our annual neighbourhood poetry gathering, Poetry In The Woods. A few families get together, go for a walk in the conservation area and share some poems we like. We also eat chips and drink wine, and the kids feed the chickadees build teepees. For the past couple of years Rob and I have also been trying to write a poem for the event. Since I've been inspired lately, I had one prepared, but Rob sat down in a burst of creativity and wrote his piece this morning.
Here are are poems.
Love In the Hood
by Rob Smith
No, no, upon
reflection, there is little to change.
Perhaps, only my time to spend among the living.
A fools wish, a common hope,
our being, fleet of wing,
flies blind down
the axis of time
So many of the
parameters of life are we born into.
Other’s accidental,
and some,
few, mutable by
our own hand.
Divined by God or
not
willed by choice
or
accidental as a Royal flush
on a Saturday
night’s ending play
I find myself here
in the woods
loved friends
stand as trees to witness my thoughts
strong and true as
always
being as always
was
Tonight in my nest
with my love
I will again be
thankful
For the love in
the hood
and as the poet
Orpheus,
ponder wondrous
happenstance
Jonah wants a Spring
Solstice Parade
by Leanne
My friend’s son Jonah wants a spring solstice parade
To celebrate the day when there is as much daylight as
darkness
I shrug, and invite the neighbours
And even though there is still snow and boots and mittens,
The evening is bright, bright!
And so we march down the street
beating drums, clashing cymbals, to announce spring,
Or as my husband says, to scare away the snow.
Despite our attachment to electronic items that beep,
our distance from farms, we are hinged to these
seasons
My kids try to understanding time
When the pond freezes its my birthday, right?
Yes, and when the snow melts into dirty wrinkles
it is time for Easter and Pesach chocolates.
School ends when it is hot enough for the sprinkler.
And so we beat our drums and eat our pizzas,
Christians, Jews,
mostly pagans
The noise showing our desire for nights warm enough
to eat in the backyard, for the sizzle of barbecues,
for children with soccer balls and tiki lamps, and
sundresses,
for cold drinks shaken not stirred.
Jonah you asked for a parade, and I was only too happy to
provide.
