Sunday, December 27, 2009

Coffee Shop.

Place: High River, Alberta
Date: December 27, 2009
Characters: Shelley, Taylor, Kirby













































































































Sunday, December 20, 2009

What Christmas means to me.

 

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A daughter kissing frost.

car in woods 1.dec09

And a dead car in the woods.

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Stamping symbols into the snow.

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And mother-daughter moments.

Piggyback.Dec09

Mother-son piggybacks.

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Exploring.

Shell, Logan, Kim, Taylor in the woods.Xmas09

And group shots.

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Son and daughter, with skull.

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Letting them make their way.

walking in woods 2.dec09

However long it takes.

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Because it is so beautiful.

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And quiet.

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And to get lost

for two hours

together

in the woods

with the coyote

and grouse

is reason enough to rejoice.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Winter horses.

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I stopped for horses in December.

I wrote a poem in November.

November 23, 2009

Coleridge would shudder, but the sun rose

on my morning run down the sanguine dirt road

like Neapolitan ice cream. Dog-less now,

and man-less, too, but some days I can’t help believing

things might just be okay. The geese didn’t stir

from the lake. I watched two coyotes

in the field beside my house

and they watched me back. I keep getting into these

staring contests. Then the horse I like best,

the palomino: we got into it, too.

The legs were working today, despite

months-long self-abuse. You see I am hopeful,

oh woman who ordered me to stop writing

sad poems. A few good runs

and I set momentary sights on a marathon.

And the white-tailed deer today. They broke through

Frank’s fence and kept crossing

the road like the cars of a train —

I lost count. What else. At the post office

ten old farmers corralled

the coffee row table — Hans, Frank, Ron, Jim ...

their monosyllabic names

more familiar to me than friends I once had

in the city. Roger says Coffee, tea or me?

and I say Coffee, but tomorrow.

Today I’m taking my ruddy face home. I’ll skin off

these sopping layers and horde each cup

of the galloping light.

__________________________________________

What will January bring?