It’s a Jungle Out There

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Deep green morning dew
Overshadowed by colours
Your very own charm



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Hot sunny days
Gave way to moist windless nights
Millions of minuscule droplets
Condensing on her skin
For the lucky to admire
In the soft early-dawn light
Tiny goosebumps like shimmering gems

The gentle morning breeze
Had dried some petals already
Creating silky duvet-covered pastel-coloured petals
Reminiscent of the fine hair on the nape of your neck
Your intoxicating perfume
Made me giddy
How to take it with me
Steal it until the end of time
Inhaling endlessly
A futile effort; my lungs filled
Sniffing repeatedly only made me light-headed

One last breath
Reaching the depths of my body
One more look
Imprinting every inch of my soul
I fear your colours
Will have long faded
And your petals floated to the ground
When I return
Alas too late to see you again


Nature’s Geometry

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Genuine feast for the eyes
Marvels of nature


Stop, and Smell the Roses

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On my way somewhere
—we’re all on our way somewhere, whether we like it or not—
I decided to stop,
not because it was part of the plan,
nor did I have anything specific to do there.

I stopped just to stop,
to have a look,
and to slow down.
I’ve done this often.

I love the effect it has on me…
Never disappointed.


Familiar Sights

Montreal Skyline at Dusk
The Montreal skyline at dusk, seen from the south shore.

Some things you never forget…
At the edge of the Saint-Lawrence,
The shadow of Mont Royal at dusk,
Montreal’s skyline painted on the sky.
Bridges stretching over the river:
Mercier, Champlain, Jacques-Cartier.
Umbilical cords, life lines of every day;
Links to memories of our youth…

Where we learned to skip stones on the water
Under the watchful eye of my father.
Giant laker ships sailing by, steaming on
We’d jump when their horn blared, scared.
Cast a red and white spoon, treble-hooked,
Fishing for the biggest northern pike,
But settled for a colourful perch, or the crappie,
Hook, line and sinker swallowed forever;
Long walk home, fishing pole on our shoulders.



Lookin’ Out My Back Door

Looking Out My Back Door
Search and Rescue training in Canada, 300 meters above Lake Winnipeg, in a Royal Canadian Air Force CC-130 Hercules aircraft.

Just another day at the office…


Shining Through


The moon rose slowly
A thin crescent only
Like a wink from an eye
The same usual dance
Only I found the patience
To watch it climb up high

Until this strange bird up high
Traced a path across the sky
Obscuring the space between me and you
For a moment only
Carried away softly
Letting you shine through


Keeping an Eye

On the fly…


Tyrannus tyrannus

An eastern kingbird
Tyrant of the neighbourhood
Its eye on the fly


Yellow Belly


I seem to recall, from watching old western movies, that calling someone a “Yellow Belly”  was a poor way of making friends… Why, then, did we use the term for a bird of the woodpecker family? Because it does sport a yellow belly.

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker Haiku

Perfect hole a nest
Cacophony of little ones
Your ruffled feathers