Will We Recognize Each Other

Remnants of winter wash down the storm sewer at the end of our street, a steady stream of grime, dead leaves and leftover dreams. The smell of Mother Earth shedding her winter weight, a moist decay, fills my nose. Bits of green poke through melting snow on lawns, through espresso black loam in flower beds where early morning conversations were tossed out the door along with coffee grounds.

I run away from my neighbor who says hello, a slight panic that we might be too close. Deep embedded Canadian courtesy has me stop and turn around, ten feet away. With eyes lowered I say “hi”. “My bad” is his quick response, this first time pandemic for most of us, hard to get used to.

A smile, a wave, we carry on not knowing exactly where we are going, not knowing where this will lead, not knowing if we will recognize each other should we meet again when the virus has traveled its corkscrew route, twisting us to shreds like a dried out cork.

Will we look back and remember things we must never do again? Will we look back with gratitude as those who survived? Survivors who know greater kindness? Who lead simpler lives? Who know how to connect when it seems no connection is possible?

I pray when we look back it will be to celebrate the changes we make, with a bottle of Mt Brave Cabernet in hand.

This Is My City #10

This street art reminded me of a famous poem 🙂
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”
Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven

Next to You

BWC4 (personal photo)

red berries
dangle from red branches
with crystal drops-
nature’s display of jewels
pales next to you

Sleeping Beauty and Vertigo

We had a great evening at the fabulous Palau de Música in Barcelona. Guest violinist was Kolja Blacher of Germany. He played Tchaikovsky’s Concerto d major, Op 35. It was a program of Wagner,Hermann and Tchaikovsky. Loved it!

Onions by Lorna Crozier

red_20onion

The onion loves the onion.
It hugs its many layers,
saying, O, O, O,
each vowel smaller
than the last.

Some say it has no heart.
It doesn’t need one.
It surrounds itself,
feels whole. Primordial.
First among vegetables.

If Eve had bitten it
instead of the apple,
how different
Paradise.

Lorna Crozier
From: Sex Lives of Vegetables.