O Canada

Dear land of mine, land of ours, leaves and trees, flowers and bees, I'm on my knees bent on loving your glory. How did you get to be such a pretty line in the sand? Patriotism is not generally one of my finer characteristics, certainly not as it once was. I might get stirred by the odd Canada-US hockey game, but countries can really be a pain in the ass, what we all get ourselves into in the name of country. It really is absurd this notion of claiming the land - in fact I saw it myself just the other day while picking strawberries with my nephews...felt the ridiculousness of claiming my row of strawberries to young children whose only inspiration was the biggest reddest juiciest strawberry, what was I afraid of? That I wasn't going to get my share? In a five acre field of strawberries? Something screwy about that... Have to say though, so nice to walk with and among the many people on Canada day. Bumped into everyone, very nice. O and the fireworks? What a fabulous invention!!

a couple of special things I received for my birthday...

Well, something that I've been wondering about since the penumbral lunar eclipse of February 2009 is where did my cycle go? Seemed to have left me, but I guess it wasn't a total eclipse of the moon. What surprising joy to receive my dear old friend back for my birthday...the gift of perimenopause, the gift of drifting into the unknown...Ever so pleased to have her back, was much in need of a little blood-letting, fire getting a bit pushy in these days of sweat and sting... And then Wood-pecker arrived, in the guise of a birthday card from a dear friend, accompanied by drumming in the near distance, and then in his full glory, the best view ever of a Pilated across Lake Erie blue horizon...new rhythms beckon, uh-huh, oh ya oh dear, now to dive into the literal...

The streets of Stratford look different to me now. I'm seeing happy faces and good time-tourists, gone from my view are the worn out couples looking in opposite directions. This house is my home, and now it's for sale. I guess that's just the way it is. The safety of silence is soon behind me, but glad to know it's mine to choose as I like. Thank you dear strange time and space for bringing me back to the place where I started from. So much love yet to live...

a poem for my step-son on the occasion of his grade eight graduation

Elaborate your power Scale with finesse up the tower and SHAKE THOSE WHO WILL NOT ROCK! Break the ties that choke the mind Breathe deep and smile Pause, for a while Walk a mile without your shoes Dance to the blues Burn up the dung Clear out the grief in the lungs Suck on a cool plum Master the art of thumb twiddling Play fiddle, pound drums, doesn't matter Make pancake batter Shatter the brain games that drain the main Bask in the flask of inspiration BE THE NATION! Enjoy the creation

Another winter in Stratford

Red lights on a snowy Stratford street like strawberries in the tundra - sweetness & fire of red cheeks in winter's cold embrace. Happiness in the neither here nor there. Spiny tingling underneath the jeans, glance sideways over to the lover of tomorrow while basking in the take your time of today.

I feel like a drink

I just heard the lyrics "tying witches' boogers into bows" on the CBC radio program "to the point". How could we have lived without this image for this long? Every time I think I've heard it all, feeling all cynical and utterly bored, I am lured by the artists among us who vault our psyches to newer and braver heights. How can we be crying poor these days? I am fantastically rich in self-investment! Long live the weirdest things you could ever think about! Now should I go out to that bonfire tonight or not? Do I go for the should or the feel good? But wait, some of that should does feel good. What's a sweet girl to do?