Fredericton, New Brunswick

The roads, the winds, not roaring, and the sky
unpricked by commerce, shadows, birds,
the sheeted yard distilled in sleep:
it seems a sort of happiness-
nothing that must, or easily,
Wants to be done-

so, on the far shelves of our dreams
wait mistily
the dreads we need not look at now-
To watch the pale sky turn to cream
seems good enough: a calm
that like an empty hand held out,
seems warm, seems almost welcoming,
signing the centre of hard days
with its still palm.

M. Travis Lane is a life member of the League of Canadian Poets.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s