This was another one for the throne room…this does not mean that books in the bathroom are any less interesting than ones on my bedside table or ones next to the red couch, it just means that I choose a different genre and always something a little less cerebral than my preferred reading, fiction or non-fiction.
Another second-hand-book-find, What Elephants Know ended up next to my other books about elephants. I liked that Jane Goodall wrote a quick recommendation. “You will be fascinated, angered, and charmed in turn by this beautifully written story.”
Dr. Eric Dinerstein is the Director of the Biodiversity and Wildlife Solutions Program at RESOLVE and so I was very interested in the fact that he wrote a novel and I anticipated that the book would be written from a unique and knowledgeable perspective.
This was a lovely book that I’d recommend for students grade five to grade seven. It was a quick read that left me thinking about the vulnerability of our wildlife and ecosystems. The protagonist, Nandu, is a beautiful character who, through his young life, teaches about the numerous impacts made upon these, while exposing the reader to the vulnerability of humanity, as well.
I think this would be a wonderful book to read aloud to students. It is refreshing to find a book that is culturally diverse and can open eyes and hearts to a different human experience. Grade three students, in their study of India, may really benefit from this story. Nandu’s relationships with his female elephant, Devi Kali and with the plants and other animals of the Borderlands are described beautifully.
This is a two evening (10 potty visits) read for an adult. I recommend doing a quick review of the book before sharing with your students/children so that you know the sensitive topics that will come along. Give it a go.
All I could think about was getting over that border and getting to my treasured friend, Ramona. The morning light was heavenly. I left the little town of Raymond, drove east and then at the intersection, turned south for the Sweetgrass Hills.
To the right, I passed wetlands and identified American Advocets and a large group of Black-necked Stilts. On road trips, one can not possibly stop often enough to capture all of the wonder as it slips past. I was happy to see many winged friends and to see the vast beauty that is southern Alberta. The past ten years or so I’ve made my life all about the fleeting moments and the tremendous beauty that reveals itself in familiar places. I’m not big into world travel…but, I’m big into deepening my relationship with what is close up, if that makes any sense at all. We all do life in our own particular way.
At the border, I was met by a very stern border service officer. Oh my goodness…a 63 year old lady approaches and ‘you have the need to be miserable’. Mayhaps I was bringing some sort of bias to the experience. “Pull around and park in the back. An officer will meet you there.” Sure…okay.
The officer who joined me a short while later was much more pleasant. She covered an agricultural survey with me and shuffled through my belongings in the vehicle…most concerned with plant matter, foods…yes, I get it. And then I was on my way after sharing with her some pleasantries about high school years in Great Falls.
Continuing on to Shelby, I thought about the lack of gun controls…the shift in thinking. I remembered how grateful I was to be a Canadian. I looked forward to making Great Falls. Once there, I contemplated taking time to visit special places and special people that remain. I sat in the parking lot of the Flying J and felt so close to the memories of home that my family built in this place…thought of my friends and the house on Fox Farm Road. I decided that this wouldn’t be the trip for packing in too much. I needed to sip on my lemonade and enjoy the landscape. I would have to make another opportunity to do all of the rest of it.
I love the landscape just south of Great Falls…Holter…and Prickly Pear. There is only one place to stop and so it’s a chore to be overcome with the extreme beauty and at the same time, in a photo-crazy world like ours, not to be able to archive it. I pulled over at the only stop on my side of the I-15.
I thought about my Dad and wondered why the heck he wasn’t on this road trip with me. I love to drive with my father. These are places he knows and loves far better than I!
In Helena, I had my first learning about roaming data charges. Sigh. Enough said. Bob and Dan, I tried to track you down. I thought I had an hour to play with in Helena. Sorry. I left your deets at home in my address book. (roaming, YOU SUCK!)
I had no recollection of the places I saw south of Helena, although I’ve traveled that road…a couple of times with a long-haul trucker, a few times traveling to see my parents in Colorado Springs, Colorado and likely before that, travels to various speech team competitions. What I haven’t done is turned off into la la land at the Divide exit, west…Wise River…Wisdom…and all of that. There were zero opportunities to take photographs of the wondrous landscape that unfolded after that turn off from the I-15 and my mind set to wondering as I saw such beauty reveal itself. I thought about my new-found cousin, Charlene, who lives in Idaho Falls and a bit of a remote feeling took over me, that likely I wouldn’t be able to meet her on this trip. All of a sudden, I heard the words escape my mouth…
“This is all for you, Kath.” And yes…there were some tears. The crystal blue waters weaving through verdant miles were beyond description. The rugged rock reached vertical to either side of me. I was overcome with beauty.
As I pulled to the right into the Big Hole National Battlefield, I felt exhausted, but so grateful. Swallows seemed to beckon me. I knew that Ramona would be working her shift in the visitor’s center, but decided to spend a few quiet moments looking over the valley. Again, time just for me. I knew that this place held huge spiritual energy and that the history for the Nez Perce peoples on this land held such provision and at the same time, horror, that I wanted to be present to the moment. And then…Ramona.
At a point, I got myself out of sync on the reading selections for the Aboriginal Pride with 12CSI reading list. It all began at the reading of Clearing the Plains. I haven’t reviewed this book yet because, honestly, I still have a chapter to go. (Intense) This one should be required reading for every post secondary student…but, more on that another time!
Regardless, I attended the book clubs for those few months, as I am always so grateful for the fact that such excellent conversations occur and I learn so much.
The Oil Man and the Sea: Navigating the Northern Gateway by Arno Kopecky did not seem, by its title, to be anything I would ever consider picking up to read and yet, upon the recommendation by a book club member, I did. While Arno Kopecky is not an Indigenous author, the book was suggested for its connection to numerous Indigenous activists, elders, fishermen and various people impacted by development and encroachment around the Northern Gateway. This author introduced me to many of the issues surrounding the history and planning for transportation of product in a highly pristine and essential part of Canada. One might argue that the narrative might be skewed, given that the writer is speaking from a non-indigenous voice, however, I feel that my personal journey addressing the Calls to Action involves a lot of discernment and listening..to many voices. I have been living in a sort of fog all of these years, where it comes to this discourse.
45. We call upon the Government of Canada, on behalf of
all Canadians, to jointly develop with Aboriginal peoples
a Royal Proclamation of Reconciliation to be issued by
the Crown. The proclamation would build on the Royal
Proclamation of 1763 and the Treaty of Niagara of 1764,
and reaffirm the nation-to-nation relationship between
Aboriginal peoples and the Crown. The proclamation
would include, but not be limited to, the following
i. Repudiate concepts used to justify European
sovereignty over Indigenous lands and peoples such
as the Doctrine of Discovery and terra nullius.
ii. Adopt and implement the United Nations
Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples as
the framework for reconciliation.
iii. Renew or establish Treaty relationships based on
principles of mutual recognition, mutual respect,
and shared responsibility for maintaining those
relationships into the future.
iv. Reconcile Aboriginal and Crown constitutional
and legal orders to ensure that Aboriginal peoples
are full partners in Confederation, including the
recognition and integration of Indigenous laws and
legal traditions in negotiation and implementation
processes involving Treaties, land claims, and other
47. We call upon federal, provincial, territorial, and
municipal governments to repudiate concepts used to
justify European sovereignty over Indigenous peoples
and lands, such as the Doctrine of Discovery and terra
nullius, and to reform those laws, government policies,
and litigation strategies that continue to rely on such
This book is built for the adventurer and for the person who has a big appreciation for wild parts of Canada that, despite the challenges in favour of development, industry and encroachment, remains one of the few places that exemplify that particular MAGIC that comes with WILD.
My preamble…then, I’ll carry on about the book. This next paragraph is from my gut…a simple formulation of my own feelings. Yes. I drive a car. Yes. I purchase packaged items. Don’t throw tomatoes.
The Canadian government has demonstrated tremendous determination to create/grow an economy built on the back of energy. There is no way that Canadians see ‘everything that goes on’, given the vast and oft-isolated topographical regions of this country, our home. What we don’t see, can’t bother us. And yet, living in these far off places, our indigenous brothers and sisters are well-aware of the tapping out of resources, the destruction and the economic hardship resulting from the abandonment of industry as it becomes obsolete or sucked dry. There are witnesses.
I’m just going to let you sit with those images. I’ve been sitting with them, and all I have to say is that things are way out of control and so much about it has to do with economics and employment. ‘Corporate’ Canada wants YOU!
Enough of a side-lined rant!
The book is a good one…it moves very quickly. It isn’t a struggle and it is certainly not dark or apocalyptic. Arno Kopecky and photographer Ilja Herb, take the reader on a magical journey (I felt like I was there) aboard a small sailing boat…well, is forty-one feet, small? It seems small to me. Neither of them had prior experience sailing. So, one aspect of the book is the story of negotiating this boat through British Columbia’s central coast. So, firstly, this would be considered an adventure book as in this part of our country, the inland passages are linked together by a dramatic network of fjords, islands and lush forested land masses interspersed with inlets. I was enamoured by the descriptions of place throughout and feel as though I was introduced to the Great Bear Rainforest in a very honest way.
Second to this, I enjoyed the many personal narratives by the people and accounts about the people who, in several cases, gave these men safe harbour, assisted in repairs and often contributed to the content of the book through interviews. Several participants have committed their lives to the protection of this land and water, knowing full well that this is likely the last great wilderness on earth. The writer seemed naive at times, meeting such wise and dedicated individuals.
Third, I grew in my knowledge about the history and planning of Enbridge Inc.’s Northern Gateway. My knowledge now exceeds what I’ve picked up over news stories these last many years. The book was generous in terms of presenting several different perspectives, as well. I learned that the weather through this region is unpredictable and that the waters to be negotiated are prone to storms and crazy conditions. It doesn’t take much for Canadians to realize the risk that such conditions pose to wildlife and environment.
The book was beautiful in its rich description of the land, the wildlife, the people and the waters. I highly recommend this read. As a result of this reading, I send out unlimited positive wishes regarding our human reliance on non-renewable energy sources and the almost obsessive willingness we have to challenge the delicate eco-systems of our nation, in order to continue down the same path, rather than pour that same energy into alternative solutions.
What comes of all of it is that we need to challenge our thinking. My readers are either extremely right on this issue OR extremely left…I think that the important thing is that we discern the various implications and decide what is most important to us. This book revealed to me the physical nature of the rugged coastline, the past issues surrounding the use of oil tankers in even more benign waters…and the high potential for an ecological disaster.
My peeps, as captured by Michelle Robinson. I love this lady…and I love her archive of photographs! We were visited that night by APTN National News.
I’m learning something new about the Calgary art scene every week and I’m so excited about the seeming expansion of visual arts events the city-over. Given that I’m living in the south, I like it that this includes the Manchester Industrial Park. One such gem is the Christine Klassen Gallery. This afternoon I was the beneficiary of fantastic light, scrumptious munchies, a glass of nicely chilled champagne and over-the-moon art works…today, featuring the works of artists Teresa Posyniak, Lisa Matthias and Carl White.
I found the work uplifting, predominantly textural in nature, with a dominance of pattern. On a warm Calgary day, seeing such works could only lend itself to a sense of optimism. I had a lovely chat with Lisa and was, given a body of work that I’m exploring, intrigued with her interest in ecology, natural history and environmentalism.
Since studying the Private Eye for an integrated educational program based on observations of natural and found objects with jeweler’s loupes, I’ve been collecting samples on my pond study and analysis of atmosphere around a single bush located at the site. I was immediately drawn to Lisa’s works. Described in part, on her website…
I’ve consistently enjoyed Carl White’s paintings as expressions of a very absorbing and melodic sensibility. I was happy to reconnect with that feeling today. It was a beautiful thing that as the huge doors were left open because of the warmth, Carl’s paintings seemed to mirror back to me the spring air, light and sound. It was truly beautiful.
Teresa’s work was fascinating for its layers of media and texture. Surfaces were dripping with colour and intensity. While reflecting upon ‘Eating the Sun’, I am salivating. Some art just creates that response in me. Again, I enjoy Teresa’s link with science. The following, a summary from the CKG website.
This stop was a delightful way to begin my afternoon art walk here in Calgary. I’ll continue by writing about my ‘second stop’ tomorrow morning, a tour led by Naomi Potter (Curator for Esker Foundation), Jim Hill (owner of Pason Systems and along with his wife, Sue Hill, an enthusiastic collector and visual arts advocate) and Dr. Shepherd Steiner ( Assistant Professor, University of Manitoba School of Art, who has recently completed a manuscript looking at Modernist painting, sculpture, and criticism from 1945–1968) of a portion of the extensive collection of works on view at Pason Systems. What magic!
My children are warm-hearted and inclusive. Last night I was very excited to have been invited, very spontaneously, by Cayley, to the viewing of the documentary, The Peel, in the intimacy of The Blank Page studio.
It was Cayley who, 27 years ago, picked purple flowers for me, while surrounded by wolf willow, at the edge of the Oldman River at Maycroft Crossing.
I had missed the huge public viewings of the film the night before. So, as I look back on last evening, I’m very grateful that I was able to curl up on a sofa and enjoy such remarkable vistas coming out of the Peel Watershed documentary and to enjoy, in part, the narratives of the participants on this wondrous adventure. I could not help but connect with the narratives, struggles and histories in the documentary, given my close connection with the Oldman Watershed in southern Alberta in the mid 1970s through the 1980s.
First, to describe the Peel project, directly from the website, this…
There is something very interesting about aging…one collects a whole bunch of experiences that later, become reference points for others. I’ve always treasured the words and stories of my elders…now, very slowly, I become the elder. It makes me smile. Life marches forward. We are left with the photographs and the archives and the documentaries.
Surprisingly, as I sat down this morning and did a search of the internet for the steps that we took in defiance of the building of the Oldman River Dam, there was very little in the way of an ideological footprint (there have been a couple of books written, one newspaper archive and the mention of the Oldman River Expedition appears sparsely on a whole number of artists’ Curriculum Vitaes) and so I decided to dig up my own archives coming from the late 1980s.
First of all, SAAG in Lethbridge celebrated the works of the following artists in an exhibit, as a response to a shorter but similar journey down the Oldman River.
I continue to admire the work of several of these artists and have followed their careers and work with great interest.
While painting could not be my sole focus through this precise period of time, I had been painting the Oldman River as a subject for a number of years. Nestled on the edge of the river, the University of Lethbridge had already been my home for four years at this point. The river became an obsession with me for many years and I had spent countless days/hours exploring and dreaming in the coulees and at the river bottom. When the politics became heated over all aspects of irrigation and development of a Dam on the Oldman, I was consumed and soon became a contributing member to the “Friends of the Oldman”. My own grandfather, the owner of Magrath Wool, Card and Spinning Mill, had taken a position on the Oldman Planning Committee.
The number of connections I made and conversations I shared around the river, grew. I remember meeting and speaking with Joane Cardinal Schubert at the time. It was an image of hers that became the poster for our legal and artistic struggle.
I began painting a series titled Oldman on the Edge and continued to paint the river right into the 1990s.
I snapped some photographs from my albums this morning…as our family, like many others, headed out very early in the morning and drove from Calgary to Maycroft Crossing for a musical festival to raise funds and to voice opposition of the dam that was already in the works. That day, I met Ian Tyson, Gordon Lightfoot, Andy Russell and Chief Crowshoe.
So…was it any wonder that I felt deeply about the documentary, The Peel, last evening? I’m glad I had opportunity to talk with both Katie Green and Daniel J. Dirk for a short while. I admire their attempts to integrate the power of the journey, their artistic practice and their strong desire to preserve, for future generations, this last remaining watershed in North America. It’s crazy what has happened to our rivers, in the name of progress and in support of industry. I understand their efforts to articulate what their journey on a portion of the Peel has come to mean to them. I know that, given my own physical/emotional/psychological efforts on a 31 day Outward Bound experience (white water and mountain climbing), what it means to try to ‘be an artist’ on a journey and how it must have been challenging for the artists on the Peel Project.
Reflecting back, again, on ‘my’ river…take a look at this…the land use…the cut lines.
I’m publishing a few pages that come out of a 2010 report on the Oldman Watershed…I think it touches on the history of a river and might give my readers something to think about. I guess something that really touched my heart last night were Daniel’s words to me…and I paraphrase…
I guess even if our voices aren’t heard and we are unsuccessful in our efforts to create sustainability, where the watershed is concerned, we will have been defiant and stood in opposition. Maybe that’s the best we can do sometimes.
Aldo Leopold’s words ring true…
“We end, I think, at what might be called the standard paradox of the 20th century; our tools are better than we are, and grow better faster than we do. They suffice to crack the atom, to command the tides. But they do not suffice for the oldest task in human history; to live on a piece of land without spoiling it.”
Congratulations on the North American premiere The Peel, a free Art!Flicks documentary directed by Calder Cheverie and Anthony Wallace. Congratulations to six artists; Aurora Darwin, Carleigh Baker, Anthony Wallace, Katie Green, Daniel J. Kirk and Callan Field.
It was very timely. Yesterday, I took the afternoon to nourish myself. I attended a session at the Esker Foundation, a studio in drawing. I cherished the time…time to make observations, be totally present and to translate what I was observing into marks. Thank you, Doug Williamson, for sharing your knowledge.
Life has pounded my family and friends lately and as a way of stepping through the pain of watching their struggles, as I’ve done throughout my life, I made art. By creating music or dancing or making marks, a person can transcend difficulties. This is what I find. We all have ways of integrating suffering until it begins to melt away. Rather than being victims to our narratives, we can push on through, to become supportive to others and to not only survive, but thrive and create.
Creativity is a journey…a process…a life-saver.
My drawing begins…
A bit of feedback, very much appreciated. And then…coloured media, tonal considerations and coloured grounds discussed.
I wanted to ease into my evening at Rumble. I didn’t want to neglect Max or my every-evening litter pick up at Frank’s Flats. I also wanted to eat something.
So, with all of those things attended to, I headed north on my epic drive to the intimate, warm and magical environment that is the Rumble House.
Bronwyn Schuster had brought to mind the idea that sometimes I might paint on a more intimate panel, instead of the large sized format that is so typical of me. And so, I worked on a beautiful 8 x 8 inch cribbed panel, perfect for fitting inside someone’s purse.
Arriving late, at 7:30, I sat down next to Priscilla who was sitting in a comfy chair next to me, busily crocheting/knitting on a self-invented slipper. I mentioned that I was going to paint a meditation. She mentioned how much she enjoys sitting near her son, Rich, so that she can hear the things he says to others as they walk by. Priscilla also said that she is in awe as she watches his paintings reveal themselves.
I was more focused on the community of people that surrounded me than anything else. Michael is always so cheerful with his greetings and it sets the tone for a wonderful experience. Paula and Brittney were busy creating their first collaborative piece, a mix of collage elements and paint. It was good to talk to Mike and to share a bit about our sadness and the loss of our friend, Loretta. Leenie! It was so good to see her smiling face and to be around her energy! I had opportunity to speak with Asa…hadn’t had a chance to catch up with him in a long time. Jo and Jeff were tucked away in a small safe place, collaborating on a beautiful piece that reminded me of a book I’m reading about a mother and her daughter, pomegranates and seeds and Persephone. Louise was back…hadn’t seen her for awhile. What a special touch that she asked me as she left if I had a ride south. (I’ll never forget the first time we met.) I chatted with James and Enriquito and finally reconnected with Jennifer. She was painting an awesome bird of prey. In fact, everyone painting in our section of the space, was painting in a warm/hot palette of colour. That intrigued me. I felt/feel nested in this place with like-minded and diverse people. I like it.
I set about painting my meditation. I incorporated text in graphite first, a piece from Jewel
As I go about each day, picking up the plastics, the discarded cups and bags from stores, the packaging and flyers that are strewn into natural environments where birds lay their nests; coyotes, their dens; ground squirrels, their complex webs of tunnels, I feel a sense of nurturing fill me up. I wish to create a safe nest for all. I wish, and optimistically so, that all human beings would open their eyes to our self-destruction. We are very lackadaisical about the landscape as we rush by, getting to the next place. And given that we can not see beneath the surface, the oceans, more than any place on earth, are crying out to be protected.
A nest meditation seemed the right thing to paint. Because the time with my Rumble pieces is so immediate, I practice the rituals of writing on the back of each piece and then archiving the work by taking a photo or two. The process of painting at the house is like a bright flame lighting up and then extinguishing, all in two hours. Funny, on this particular night, I did not sign my piece and I did not photograph it. I’m posting a photo or two here of other works that have explored this theme of nesting. Thank you to Sam who purchased my Wednesday nest containing three blue eggs, at auction.
Thanks for the image, Sam!
I treasure my place on this jewel of a planet. I am only one…but, wish in this brief moment, to make an impact. Here are some of artist-souls who impact me.
James and Enriquito
Rich (I never get a good picture of him)
Paula and Brittney
What a place! We’d love to see you next Wednesday night.
The weather is changing…in fifteen minutes, I had collected up my bag of litter and Max and I were off to enjoy the shift in temperature and remarkable scenery. A woman stood on the ridge looking, I suppose, wondering what I was up to. Two pigeons strutted about the east side of the glassy pool of open water, two muskrats slid, slippery, into the dark water on the west rim. I never cease to be in love with this small bit of the world. A jet black crow dipped, unbalanced, with nesting material already spilling out of its beak. Spring is just around the corner.
After 59 years of life, I decide to write about the seasons. In doing so, I face the inevitable possibility that this post will be passed by for the seeming cliche of the colours, sounds and weather of it. Do human beings ever get tired of the seasons? The rituals and festivals that each season offers?
I spend a lot of time making observations of a single pond, the flats and the slopes that move onto those flats. It’s not a large space in area, but it is just perfect for getting up close and noticing the life of it. Given the blessing of this repetitive experience, I am able to see the changes in the wildlife, water fowl, the plant life and the water. The weather imposes its own impact on everything on the space, including my choice of dress, footwear and feeling about it.
With years passing, I’ve got to admit that a person DOES slow down and notice more and mayhaps appreciate the ‘beauty in the simple things’.
I remember requiring my students to keep ‘magic’ journals and it was evident that some of them despised the activity, maybe all of them despised the activity…but I told them to hold on to those journals…shove them in a drawer somewhere…pull them out years later and treasure them. I held onto any pages that some left behind as they bounced out the classroom, tearing toward summer vacation with wild abandon. They wrote about the ‘stuff of life’…times that REALLY mattered.
Just like a friend can not insist and succeed at having their buddy quit smoking, there is no way that an adult can convince youth to slow down and take things in. (in truth, there is no way that an adult can convince other adults to slow down) Life seems to be a rush. Life seems to be about accomplishing more, making more, getting rich, becoming powerful, accumulating wealth and consuming. This is all an illusion. STOP. Literally, smell the flowers. If you STOP long enough to complete that gesture, the time it takes to smell a flower, you will have had time enough to utter, “A Huh” or to connect with something that truly counts…a connection with a memory or a connection with gratitude.
Taking pause is a gift.
I’m including a couple of photographs of the pond at Frank’s Flats that capture the seasons. If I gaze out my kitchen window, I observe the very same story at a single sparrow’s nest. In fact, just before the cold weather blew in for 2014, a male and female fledgling returned to their nest, Mr. and Mrs. long gone. One does not have to travel far, in order to watch the seasons change. This post is written as a dedication to my Uncle Bob, my father’s young brother who ,yesterday, passed from this earthly life, grew wings, and journeyed into the beauty of forever. May his soul rest perpetually, in peace.
I encourage my readers to find one place and return to it again and again. Here you will find time to meditate/pray and to connect with what is really essential to a healthy spirit, body and life.
Circle by Harry Chapin
“All my life’s a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls thru the nighttime;
Till the daybreak comes around.
All my life’s a circle;
But I can’t tell you why;
Season’s spinning round again;
The years keep rollin’ by.
It seems like I’ve been here before;
I can’t remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we’ll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my roads have bends;
There’s no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.
I found you a thousand times;
I guess you done the same;
But then we lose each other;
It’s like a children’s game;
As I find you here again;
A thought runs through my mind;
Our love is like a circle;
Let’s go ’round one more time.
I was thinking about writing a poem as I was depositing my trash bag into the bin today, Another hour or so at Frank’s Flats, and I was left feeling that I had entered into the personal narrative of a community…browsing deep into the sock drawers of strangers.
Driving home, I heard Derek Beaulieu, Calgary’s 2014 Poet Laureate, reading his poem, Please, No More Poetry on 93.7
For a moment, I second-guessed myself and thought it would be a waste of time to write. But, only for a moment. And then I decided, instead of Netflix, I would go ahead and write a poem.
October 5, 2014 Frank’s Flats
The Nuisance Grounds
My feet sweat inside my
and the sun shines,
lighting up other people’s waste.
Those other people
leave no more secrets.
Five more granola packages today
and three plastic pudding containers.
I didn’t find the spoons.
Many pages of coloured paper announce the deals
for this week and weeks before.
A bag of human defecation wrapped and tied
neatly, left under a tree.
McCafe cup, broken plastic bits.
Coloured straws, other-worldly in
Red hawk calling from above.
Ducks, skittish, paddling out from shore.
This is other people’s nuisance. Not yours.
Bags with yellow liquid swishing at their bottoms.
Bags with brilliant logos of Wal-Mart,
A long length of bubble wrap
dazzled dots in the light,
wraps around and hugs a
Styrofoam falls apart
at my pinch, a myriad of white spheres
into the grass.
I’ll have to be more gentle next time.
It’s at this point, I think about writing
I am at odds
because there is no one to blame.
This is not yours.