I like that finale, Max,& how you got there; but you’re in Seattle: 'unstoppable cold’? Not as we see it up here…
Doug
On Sep 9, 2015, at 8:21 AM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Chestnuts
>
> Up in the park
> you can recover
> from the climb:
>
> perch on a bench,
> drawing breath
> beneath old trees,
>
> shielded from quick
> time by their slowness.
> Eye-catching, though,
>
> are darting squirrels
> making leashed dogs lurch.
> It’s chestnut-fall month,
>
> bountiful - stoop
> for some shining
> ones, pocket a few.
>
> Eye-catching above,
> that staring owl
> half-camouflaged,
>
> commandingly
> poised, threatening
> what? Look again -
>
> it’s not real - grey
> plastic! - threat merely
> to those deceived,
>
> and who are they?
> Are they not welcome
> to forage and hoard
>
> against the coming
> unstoppable cold?
> September’s stalled:
>
> clouds have stopped still
> all day hereabouts
> while time prepares
>
> its next push - owl
> or no owl - tolerates
> these squirrels, this
>
> old human with dog,
> their nostalgic
> harvest of chestnuts.
>
> Max in Seattle
Douglas Barbour
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Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation 2 (UofAPress).
Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
Done in by creation itself.
I mean the gods. Not us. Well us too.
The gods moved into books. Who wrote the books?
We wrote the books. In whose dream, then are we dreaming?
Robert Kroetsch.
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