I'd got
a basket of
just picked second last week peaches
and a loaf of
rosemary bread
baked fresh from the park's oven
kamut, spelt, pumpkin seed
multigrain and rye
were all from the freezer
baked one day ahead
Heidrun was on vacation
I was walking
towards the mall's park lot
on the pavement
along Dufferin Park
in good shade
looking up all the great trees
some I could name
that tree with stripping barks
sycamore
maple of different kinds
hundred tones of green
overlapping, cool and minty
like the painting of Emily Carr
a sudden urge to escape the city
into the forests
lying under big trees
waving umbrellas
hundred shades of green
could see them eyes closed
could hear them
feel them
sailing clouds
whispering winds
I climbed inside my Honda
still thinking of Emily
and wanted to read her stories
(that I did when I got home
and bought her biographical trilogy:
Klee Wyck, The Book of Small, The House of All Sorts
at a Kindle price of $1.39)
back inside the car
I turned left on Dundas West
right on Gladstone
passed Alexander Muir-Gladstone Public School
and the long stripe of mosaic
Wisdom, Love, Truth, Bravery, Humility
Honesty and Respect
I remember the school kids
age six to eleven
for days the teacher laboured together
sometimes sunny
sometimes a threat to rain
I almost wanted to add
patience, obedience, cooperation
a war putting chaos into order
required our little mosaicists
a little blood, sweat and tears
In another twenty seconds
I arrived at our driveway
it seemed taken
a pretty long time
how do you measure time?
I just confronted the school
built in 1952
a lapse, a gap
of sixty
and six years
Published on Sep 7, 2018
