I wasn’t sure about the rhododendrons, there, or not there, Bill. The story’s fine, though.
(but what’s Max doing there?)
Doug
> On Nov 18, 2015, at 2:50 PM, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> *Gusts*
>
> Winds gusting to fifty miles an hour,
> I’d say, or even more, funnel
> through this concrete tunnel
> from the apartment gardens
> to our avenue sidewalk.
>
> A small woman in a full skirt or coat
> might lift right off her feet!
> soaring suddenly aloft.
> Just as, that bleak day long-gone
> in the ranges near Melbourne,
>
> my sister, there to enjoy
> the rhododendrons, even
> if it was the wrong month,
> stepped forward into the gale
> and it lifted her off the turf!
>
> She nearly took off - like a kite!
> or skydiver daring the edge of a cliff.
> It was only a green bluff above
> a steep green slope. Enough
> for us to hold each other back,
>
> turn away towards the azaleas
> and rhododendrons,
> trembling and laughing,
> as close as when we were kids.
> She’s safe now, my sister,
>
> but not where I’d like her to be,
> visiting me wherever I’m living,
> or me visiting where she lived.
>
>
> Max in sidewalk Seattle
Douglas Barbour
[log in to unmask]
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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