Apples, peaches, pears and plums
Tell me when your birthday comes.
An apple, a peach, a pear and a plum,
my back yard hosted four trees.
Pal Penny shimmied the apple
Hurricane Hazel rent the peach
Squirrels rushed the paltry pear.
I climbed the plum.
The bark had treads.
He Could Sell
It is early morning
It is already hot
I am tired of waiting.
For the bus
At the Islington platform.
Eleven pigeons stalk the platform
They hunt for bread.
Comes one tiny sparrow
Surveys the pigeons from a crack in the pavement
Finds the one piece of bread
On the Islington platform
Flies away with his prize
In front of all the big boys.
Reminds me of that guy in sales
From Minden, I remember
Just a kid
Brash, acne rash, not much dash
But man could he sell.
Beat out all the big boys.
Monterez Inn Resort – Ottawa area
Seeing a river through my window
in the morning
meant so much.
strong and peaceful.
Sure autumn colours
fringing the river.
I never get to rise in the mornings to a river.
It was nice.
It was nice.
God’s morning handshake.
Are Pigeons Colorblind?
The traffic light turns red.
Pigeons plop up and fly
Across Lawrence Avenue.
I can’t cross on a red.
Are pigeons colourblind?
Or do they just not care?
This Poem is For the Birds
I am zapped by life from time to time
That is when I write a rhyme.
I recently saw
About fifty small birds flying west
And one lone Canada goose flying east.
And then the fifty whatever type birds
Did a gala U-turn in the sky
And followed the one lone Canada goose.
Whoever can know why?
Maybe they thought he was the guy in the know.
Waiting for Eatonville Library to Open on a Summer Morning
It is ten to ten on a summer morning.
The library opens at ten.
I sit alone on a concrete bench.
I rest and I gaze.
The library garden is at high tide.
Monet smiles from somewhere.
Golden and purple flowers spread, spiral, cascade, fan and spray.
At ten o’clock the librarian opens the door
I go in.
The garden remains outside.
Gardens do not read.