Artwork courtesy of Wendy A. Thomas.

Artwork courtesy of Wendy A. Thomas.







The wind in my hair

is an old friend.

The seasons

like neighbourhoods

acquaintances met

departures regretted.

There is a price to pay

for the threads

that trellis me.


The stars are lovely

twinkling the night sky.

My heart stretches -

I lean

and turn

Oh! The moon

like a punchline

over the southern horizon.


The gray stone

and red brick,

the potholes.

My friend’s cancer,

the lines in my own face.

Waves washing up on the shore,

foam lapping on the sand.

The little stones

iridescent when wet,

The ocean too cold for swimming.

These are questions I cannot answer.