Wordsworkinc's Weblog

Life, love and language

Calgary is turning gold

Calgary is turning gold,

though the grass is still green and lush from the rain,

and the sun rides high in the pale blue sky.

The sparrows are bright-eyed and noisy and bold

as they fight for seed at the feeder.

Calgary is turning gold,

though the mountains hide in the shimmering haze

and the streams reflect the sun’s brightening rays.

On a shaded deck in the lazy heat

we bask in the dog days of summer

*  *  *

But the trees know there will be snow

and Calgary is turning gold.

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September 12, 2015 Posted by | Living in Canada, Verse and worse | , | 1 Comment

South Africa

While I’m in a poetic mood here is another one I wrote years ago, after a visit to the UK and Canada, and long before I realised we would one day be living in the latter country.

Last week I stood above the Mother City

and watched her lights spread out beneath my feet.

the shelter of the mountain dark behind me,

while cars made mobile patterns in her streets.

Last week in ancient crags of Cedarberg

I drove between the gargoyle sandstone towers.

Then, senses satiated, sat and dreamed

in Biedouw Valley’s rainbow fields of flowers.

Last month I walked through England’s gentler fields

and flew over the Rockies mighty peaks,

watched orca play in the waters off Vancouver,

but here, my heart was caught again, last week.

October 27, 2009 Posted by | Verse and worse | | 1 Comment

Soccer match on the community green

Summer is over, as fall arrives here is a memory of the long summer twilights:

7 o’clock.

The lengthening shadows

creep across the park

though the sun, hung low in the sky,

shines bright and warm.

Little boys, like erratic ants

scatter.

Running, pushing, climbing, playing.

Parents, talking, laughing,

Mingling and re-mingling,

Slowly drift across the grass

to take their places at the side of the field.

A small child squeals indignation

at some lost freedom,

An elderly couple on an evening stroll,

smile briefly, indulgently, and move on.

A dog barks.

A call brings the small boys to scrambling, jostling order.

A whistle blows.

In the long shadows the soccer match begins.

October 24, 2009 Posted by | Verse and worse | 1 Comment