FIRST SNOW

First snow
lovely snow

lacing over limp marigolds
and browned grass

lay down cool calm
across our restless dreams

you are a blessing upon
rusted stalks and stems

your graceful flecks of white
make faith seem possible.

                        by Susan Ioannou

Susan Ioannou has published poems, stories, and articles in literary magazines across the country, as well as two children’s novels, a book of short fiction, and a handbook for writers. Her most recent poetry collection is Looking Through Stone: Poems about the Earth (Your Scrivener Press).

 

BIG FIRS

At the center of what's left of the forest,
or some side wing between inlet and strait,
somewhere between Halfmoon Bay and Porpoise Bay,
you'll find the big firs.

They were left by the old cross-cut saws.
By some miracle, they were spared saw and fire.

And here the four of them tower in the clearing,
Left over from raven's ancient age.

                        by Susan Telfer

Susan Telfer has had poems published in The Malahat Review, Grain, Exile, The Antigonish Review, The Dalhousie Review, Arc and The Fiddlehead. Her first book, House Beneath, was published by Hagios Press in 2009. She lives with her family in Gibsons, BC.

SCOTCH MINTS

On the very next day
I woke to snow falling
A heavy, sloppy mess on the roads and underfoot,
And I was immediately thankful that the bag of mints
Is foil lined, waterproof,
Pressed down by a covering of wet white.

And I thought (tried not to, but I did) of
You, tucked in there
And what remains of you tucked in here,
In us.

How I can’t help but look expectantly at each passing red pickup
Even though I know, I know.
And how often I (almost) drag myself up there
To stand over earth and voice something you’d want to hear,
Something I forgot to say.

Like long after an elephant dies
Scavengers had their fill, blood ties paid homage
The bones remain, sun whitened, immediate.

Like you, still present in
Your house on
Your street,
And in echos of
Your words,
The lingering smell of your cigar
As you sit in the darkened backyard with Bob
Shooting the breeze.

                       by Lesley-Anne Evans

Lesley-Anne Evans lives in Kelowna, BC, with her husband, three children and dog. Lesley-Anne’s poetry reads like a benediction to the world. Her writing is fresh and deep, inviting us to transcend our circumstances and consider possibility for our longing. Some of her poems are available online at www.buddybreathing.wordpress.com. Lesley-Anne is currently working on her first book.

IN TRAINING

Not long ago she would have strutted up my jacket
sleek as a runway model. Homeless now,
her chewed-wood nest abandoned, she shivers
as she drags her bag-lady cart.

Ever so gently I stroke her wings, soft as thought
not losing the thought of her hair-trigger temper. She stills
as if she likes it. Perhaps it’s the warmth of my finger
on this raw November day.

Most likely she's a queen in training.
Hatched at the end of summer, she'll winter alone,
toughening up in a rotting log, earning her crown.
Again and again I pet her: this gem, this punk, this docile savage.

Inches from my cheek her needle eyes wheedle: to cozy up inside my jacket?
A yellow jacket down my back? Not likely.
I look away and when I look back, she's gone.
I should shuck my jacket and be rid of her -- but why begrudge the shelter?

Driving home, I feel something fuzzy on my thumb.
I set her in my lap and stroke her some more.
I have fallen for her and perhaps she for me.
Maybe she'll winter in my bedstead:

my pet, my friend, my fellow student.
Aren't I in training too, crawling up and down
the Mother's jacket, desperate to get in.

                       by Duane Tucker

Duane Tucker is an actor, screenwriter, critic, essayist and poet. He toured for years with his one-man show on John Muir, one of the earliest environmentalists. He has reviewed theatre for the “Hamilton Spectator” and written art criticism for “Canadian Art” and “Border Crossings”. In a previous incarnation in Hollywood, he appeared in over 40 films and TV shows. He also wrote several movies, two of which were optioned for production. His poetry and prose have been widely published: University of Baltimore’s “Passenger Magazine” voted him poet of the year 2002. He has an essay forthcoming in a collection entitled "Tough Times" from Black Moss Press.