Archive for the ‘nature’ Tag

Flying

Wings flocking,
A storm of white.
Too orderly for raucous gulls –
Oh, but there are thousands!
Wave upon wave,
Landing,
Threads sewn on the sky.
Tangled skein on the grass.
Black wingtips,
So big, even from my distant car window.
Snow geese.
Snow geese!
A sight I’d seen only in picture books.
Until now.
They are bringing the snow I will drive through this afternoon,
The first of the season.
Snow geese.
Flying South, winging in cold.
Like my baby’s first tiny handprint later,
Home safe in the driveway,
Her first touch of snow.
I too shiver in wonder.

Autumnal haiku duo

Slender birch neck. Clear
sky above, a scarf of leaves
below. Cold fingers.

Warm colours, muffled
sounds. Outside is slowing down.
Adagio Fall.

Mmmmmmm

A baby, an afternoon, and a beach. Out at the edge of the jetty, past the bay with the lifeguards and volleyball and ducks. The water stretches out in front of me, glittering with white sails, white wings, white waves. And above, every colour of sky.
River therapy.
I feed Hibou with one hand and write with the other, feeling Britannia Beach’s pebbles under all of my toes. My shoulders glow in the sunshine, and I listen with my whole body.
I have been starving for this sound.
Waves, and wind, and wings. Gulls and children, each with happy shrieks.
The city disappears. I feel like I am inside a secret, with only lapping, crashing water, the singing wind, and an overwhelming view.
Hibou falls asleep for a moment or two, lulled by the white noise of the surf. But the excitement of a gull landing is too much, and she is up, staring.
Utter peace, for the cost of the gas to get here.
A windsurfer launches out, total grace, gone in an instant of white wake.
Geese are a dotted black line, punctuating the clouds.
A pair of ducks peer at us hopefully as they waddle past, close enough to see the texture of their beaks. Hibou peers wondrously back.
The sky stretches, and stretches, and yawns.
There isn’t more perfection in all the wide world.

1 Beach, 2 Hours, 3 Cousins

Wind-tossed hair,
red hot cheeks.
Sunscreen-glooey sanded limbs.
The gulls and children mimic each other.
Waves upon mud cakes,
topped with stick candles and riverweed icing.
Digging for shells with our toes,
rewarded with a heart-shaped rock.
Three yellow-lifejacketed ducklings bobbing.
Ice cream.
Oozing chins,
sticky sweet kisses.
Timeless sitting and listening to the wind,
slowly drying in the sun,
watching children play out of arm’s reach.
Something eases inside,
stretches its wings,
and takes off to the sound of screeching giggles.

Cottage Weekend Trio

Mind: be still.
Be quiet, and listen.
It is the waves’ turn to speak.
The raindrops are doing a tapdance, in time with the treetops.
Heart: slow.
Let the wind set your beat tonight.
The licorice-checkered tablecloth begs for a crossword puzzle.

The tightly wound ball of yarn that I am
is starting to slowly unravel.
There are still knots in the line,
but the string is straightening,
loosening.
I see the kite tail that I could be,
flying high above the trees,
fierce,
strong,
a purposeful weight.
A night’s sleep and a day’s restfulness
is all it took.
If tonight’s sleep could be longer,
less interrupted by nightmares,
and tomorrow’s day even lazier,
I’d get closer,
and closer,
to still.
To strength.
To unknotting.

What a blessing it is to have quiet.
A prolonged period of time listening only to my own breath,
trees swaying,
birds greeting the morning.
What a gift it is to know that there is nothing I must do with my time.
To have a day that does not need to be filled.
It can just be.
It can just whisper to me.

A Breath of Northern Air

A summer coat of fog clings skin-tight to Iqaluit’s waking wintry body.
The wind’s out on an early smoke break, allowing the lighthouse a rare glimpse of its reflection.
Frobisher Bay licks at the mud flats, slowly carving stone.
Sultry mounds of Canadian Shield beckon.

Summer Storm

Wet blanket sky,
Ballerina trees do pliés.
Lullaby wind.
Clouds crack open,
Let in light.
Mirrored puddles beg for feet.