Night Shadows

 

Night is that shadow 

without a moon; 

the sun has slipped 

over the horizon

to lands I cannot see. 

Even the sounds of 

the night are changed. 

Bird song is muted, 

Wind whispers around 

corners and down streets. 

Traffic avoids the rush 

and splash of the day.

Curtains pulled against 

the cold soften sounds

outside and in. The creaks 

of the building settling 

for the night tells me 

that I’m not the only 

one showing my age,

“It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.”

~ Stephen King, novelist

24 Hours

So many things to listen to. At night 

we listen to our dreams. They drift away, 

fraying at the edges until our eyes open to 

reality. Keeping sounds low, home stirs 

awake. Sleepy chirping of birds, uncertain 

weather rattles window panes or the silence 

of a rising sun suggests whether to shiver or 

be glad. Cars and trucks shush by, garbage 

trucks rumble down alleys, and passenger 

laden buses bustle and wheeze. With the 

steady tick of the clock, voices grow busier, 

laughter bubbles til at days end, family 

sounds take their places wrapped up in screens and sitcoms. Pillowed dreamtime returns and still we listen. But how much have we heard?

“Everybody has 24 hours and the question is, what do you do 

with your 24 hours? That’s what makes everybody equal.”

~ Stedman Graham, 

educator, author, businessman, public speaker

Coffee Shop Heart Sounds

Heart sounds are lub-dub, lub-dub or so the medical folks say but I say that heart sounds are big rippling laughs like the laughter and chatter of a coffee shop ignoring the usual topic of the weather, talking of cruises and a new craze of ‘walking soccer’. Some may call it shallow or trivial but I would call these coffee shop heart sounds just what a gray rainy day needs.

“Laughter is an instant vacation.”

~ Milton Berle

Missing: Surround Sound

In the city I often miss 

the music of the nature’s quiet

wind's soughing 

rustle of leaves, 

sparrows busily chirping, 

water flowing, 

bullrushes shushing 

in wind and wave

black birds’ throaty notes

waves crashing and frothing

shiny wet pebbles 

rolling and settling 

meadow larks trilling their songs

long grasses whispering and nodding

rain dripping from grey clouds

geese honking to circle and fly

crickets and frogs calling to their mates

thunder rumbling from black clouds

In February, I often miss warmer climes.

“Nature’s music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.

~ Mary Webb

Like a Child

Like a child

I stopped

ears tuned to distant honking

eyes lifted to the treetops

Where are they?

I can’t see!

head craned back

scanning through 

crisping golden leaves~

suddenly 

they appeared ~

geese arrowing  

from Wascana Lake

~ incredible migration in flight.

“I am a child who is getting on.”

~ Marc Chagall, author

The Other

There were pictures

Thudding sounds

buildings frayed like old, worn shirts

an old woman, gray hair streaming,

sat on a bench, a ragged quilt around her

Walking home 

from the grocery store

traffic and bird sounds stalled

this old woman, gray hair tucked in,

wore bright colours and a warm coat

The Other

seemed far away and

sadness and gratitude mixes

their men, women and children dying.

our men, women and children live.

“We are the other of the other.”

~ Marco Aurelio

Inspired by a photo of a Ukrainian woman in the war zone posted on CBC

Only the Little Things

Regina Frost Event 

You know

the watch bracelet 

that you love that

catches and pulls on

your favourite sweater

Or 

the scraping sound of

tree branches against

the window when 

you are trying to read

Or

suddenly seeing a

short, stubby snowman

with a sparkling, happy face

who brightens the world around him!

“It didn’t seem possible to gain so much happiness from so little.”

~ Peter Lerangis, The Sword Thief

The Birds

Never-never land - from 10 a.m. punching this number for that department a hundred times (well maybe only five times), being on hold for an hour and then leaving my number for a call back which has yet to come.......

But I’d rather talk about the birds. It was on a morning walk a couple of days ago. Rounding the end of the Wascana Migratory Bird Sanctuary, the sight was amazing. The air was just under crisp, the sun warm, fall reddened gold with the rustle of drying bulrushes lining the shores. And beautiful birds. Birds scattered on the waters, flying in to land in groups or singles, floating and gathering as far as my eyes could see. The air was filled with the sound of these fascinating creatures calling, honking and crying to each other. This cluster close to me held more than one species. Pelicans, Canada geese, ducks, gulls and I’m sure there were cormorants in there somewhere. Even the Canada geese dove, tails up, for a soggy bottom snack! Hadn’t seen that before. 

This was a much more magical Never-never Land.

“You just think lovely wonderful thoughts,” Peter explained,

“and they lift you up in the air.”

~ James Barrie

The Train

I could hear it coming ~

rumbling, muttering

crawling forward

giant wheels screeching

against roiling greyness

hiding a waning moon

scraping across the city

brilliant flashes of cold fire

lit the night as silvered rain 

sluiced through the city.

“There is a moonlight note in the Moonlight Sonata; 

there is a thunder note in an angry sky.”

~ Dejan Stojanović

At Midnight

At midnight tonight

October is done

One second past

November will come

Our calendars mark 

each day, month and year,

while the tick of the clock

is the sound that we hear.

“Midnight’s the only time where you can be 

both in the past, present, and future.”

~ Rachel Van Dyken, The Consequence of Revenge

Awake

A strange wind seems a-blowing

but the trees are still and quiet?

Only sparse traffic opens 

the fringed curtains on today.

The steady muscular heaviness of 

buses and trucks not yet loud 

enough to shake us all from slumber.

These rumbling sounds of the city

unnecessary for those of us already awake.

“In every sound, the hidden silence sleeps,”

~ Dejan Stojanovic,  The Creator

Silent Senses

Standing silently outside

I saw

Bees floating 

Flower to flower

Standing silently outside

I felt

Warm sun bare arms

Cool breeze ruffling my hair

Standing silently outside

I tasted

Slender beans

Tucked in leafy shadows

Standing silently outside

I heard

Gulls crying

From the rooftops

Standing silently outside

I smelled

Tall grasses drying

In the lengthening summer air.

Standing silently outside

My heart softened and grew strong.

“…and then I have nature and art and poetry, 

and if that is not enough, what is enough?”

~ Vincent Willem van Gogh

Inspired Writing ~1

Inspiration evolves 

when I slow down and think

when I look up a word to find a

synonym, when I can't remember a

sound and don’t know the ‘just right’

words to describe it.

Inspiration evolves from 

my experiences

my preferences

my abilities and

   the world I enjoy.

  Inspiration evolves when 

  a marching band swings past 

   with the scurl of bagpipes, 

   the steady beat of drums and 

   the swing of kilts. 

Inspiration evolves when 

the colours and dress of 

children and families, 

lovers and friends 

curl their way through 

lawn, sidewalks and streets

Inspiration evolves when 

I see children dancing and spinning to the grand music of Victoria Symphony, using their circles of light toys, as they would scarves, to swing through the air.

Inspiration evolves when 

a lone multihued light sabre, 

hidden behind a gigantic Douglas fir, conducts the Symphony floating on a barge in the Inner Harbour.

Inspiration evolves like a balloon

filling with air so that it floats

above the surface of the earth 

to be seen, felt, and touched

until it goes higher than I can reach

but floats away and all I remember 

is it’s beauty but not the words

“A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.”

~ Gustav Mahler