Thursday, September 14, 2017

Killarney Provincial Park

It fades all together too quickly
those rocky, sun-warmed shores
smooth stone, endless underneath me
feet in cool water, Tom Thompson’s trees still, beckoning
from across the far-reaching blue.

Let me away from all these office doors,
down flights of stairs,
out into the end of summer’s soft breezes.

Let me close my eyes, seep through these
open-less windows,
away from lamplight and into the sun.

There was a frog.
He sat, still, half-floating in a small pool of warm water,
out from under a small crack in the same rock we both shared.

I sat, just as still.
Georgian Bay lapped against my feet;
he leapt.  Swallowed an ant.
Bounce, splash, slid -
back under the rock.  Vanished.

I want to remember his eyes.  Brown, shiny, unblinking.
I want to keep that startling moment, of stillness, sudden life, then vanishment.

Pink granite shores.  Green jack pines.


A blinking cursor pulses.

Forever unfinished longing.

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