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.

Neighborhood Gossips


Walls lean and tilt
neighbourhood gossips
moving closer to hear
conversations of passersby

many have been heard

Ancient building blocks
sentinels of the city
harbour untold stories
a voluminous library
compendiums full of personal narratives
about tourists and residents alike

Moon, stars, sun, rain
these hovering facades endure centuries
of eyes looking upon their eroding exteriors
some balancing precariously
some appearing to wink like a devious child
bursting to tell a secret

Patiently they take all in
fashions and styles vary
disseminated through a profusion of languages
people come and go
Walls remain
leaning tilting
moving in to hear
more of the conversations below