Wednesday Poems

Image: Cycle, acrylic on canvas 16” x 20”

The redwing blackbirds have been filling the air with their
unique song lately, heralding the approach of spring.  This
always reminds me of when, living near Trout Lake
in Vancouver, I managed to haul myself out of bed by 5:30 a.m.
to ride my bike around the park for awhile. It was, for a time,
my way of getting ready for another day at my desk; a way
of making sure I got a chance to enjoy the dawn and get some
much needed exercise while I was at it.  So for today’s Wednesday
Poem, here’s Cycle, from Bewildered Rituals (Polestar).

CYCLE

For now, the sun has crashed
the gates of last night's rain.
We are the lovers of dawn,
thrive on early rising to emerge
from drowsy houses. Leave the sleepers
to their dreams, we spin
through morning mist and willow green
and I, for one, haunt this park
with longing.

This small hour a fantasy
to follow my breath, wherever;
peddle my desires to herons in the trees.
Widgeons grazing in the grass
take flight at each arrival,
whistle from the sun-striped lake
until we pass.

We, who come to sip of peace, unwitting
cause the birds' routine
of fearful feeding.
But I'll think no more of contradictions,
fling my mind to flight with sea gulls,
gather canvasses of clouds.
Off-key as the crows, I compose
symphonies of freedom.

Even as I leave,
duty driven to my day,
the ghost of myself remains
there, just past that clump of reeds
bursting with the crescendo
of redwings.