Given it a Canadian Flavour

If I keep this up, I'll be really surprised. I have a habit a starting things and not finishing them.

In the Valley of the Moon, Alberta

Wind-weathered mounds of
what used to be Archaeopteryx,
gravel formed from eroded Pteranodons,
blasted by elements for millions
of eons before we arrived,
so long before we took our first steps.
Grasses bend in breezes
melded for centuries fossils of
Apatosaurus, Raptor, and Stegosaurs.
All that is left
of such stately specimens
is dust,
curiously raw.

[(c) 1998]

Things That I Just Have to Say

There are some things that I can let go by. Others just have to be written down, spoken aloud, passed along, enter the consciousness.

The following is some of what must be said:

Ambleside Fog (after photograph by Jason Cyr 11/02)

Under eerie darkened skies

she creeps

spinning her web of sweet deception

alone; she sees

the dawn of each new day’s reward.

The blades of grass left short by independent means,

left undisturbed by all but

fairy wings that flutter through as

whimsical lyrics, visible to only artists, paramours and thieves.

Her arias sweep away their misty past acquaintances,

and eye the stormy air ahead. She waits (as cats lives everlasting)

to dream and feel refreshed as warmth returns

her to her fabled resting place.

Among the clouds, she drifts for yet another chance

to live, to venture forth, to know her own existence.

[(c) 2002]