The tropics of Canada


I never tire of a peachy sueded dawn,
the nap of clouds brushed back
to reveal the start of another
blue day.  I never tire of a light jacket
and bare legs in these the dregs
of summer.

I never tire of bean stalks crawling
up their twine canes, scarlet blooms
still blooming even though the bees
are long gone and the harvest past.

I never tire of begonias and impatiens
persistence beyond the autumn moon,
their flower heads spotlights among
ankle deep maple leaves jostling
in the unseasonably warm breeze.

Anorexic trees, limbs naked now,
remind me something is amiss
and sandals in the front hall
confirm this as do the mittens still
waiting for cold hands and the
down settled unfluffed in winter
parkas in the closet.

Outside the lilies revive and the
Rideau River flows unfrozen into the
ocean that rises in rebellion with
the blood of Arctic glaciers spilled
on our shores.

But I never tire of a peachy dawn
on my tropical island in the north.

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28 thoughts on “The tropics of Canada

  1. I, too, thought you were celebrating the hiatus in seasons until I got to the blood line followed by the “but” in the next verse. Then I re-read and found the ambivalence. I don’t consider that a failure. I’ve written short stories where I WANTED my reader to get to the end and think, “I need to read that again.” And maybe this is what our weird weather makes us do—an instinctive enjoyment followed by analytical reconsideration. Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for that insightful comment, Ellen. I try not to write poetry that requires an advanced degree in physics or obscure knowledge, but you’re right – it is important to mull and consider a poem as much as to enjoy the imagery.


  2. Well that was just beautiful. You write so well. *sigh*
    I’ve embraced my barn jacket and donned my boots — I’m ready for mittens, but I would like a few sunny days in which to be greedy with my camera before it’s all gone. It seems to have waited and hurried up here :/

    Liked by 1 person

    • I think I must have missed the mark with this poem. I was trying to convey ambivalence about the weather since it is so abnormal for this time of year in this place. We should be fretting about snow and getting snow tires on our cars and making sure the outside taps water flow is stopped before sub-zero temperatures. Instead, we’re still mowing the lawn. Its too freaky.


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