A Bus Along St. Clair: December by Margaret Atwood

It would take more than that to banish me:
this is my kingdom still.
Turn, look up
Through the gritty window: an unexplained
wilderness of wires.

Though they buried me in monuments
of concrete slabs, of cables
though they mounted a pyramid
of cold light over my head
though they said, we will build silver paradise
with a bulldozer

it shows how little they know about vanishing:
I have my ways of getting through.

Right now, the snow is no more familiar to you than it was to me: this is my doing.
The grey air, the roar going on behind it
are no more familiar.

I am the old woman sitting across from you on the bus,
her shoulders drawn up like a shawl;
Out of her eyes come secret hatpins, destroying the walls,
the ceiling

Turn, look down:
there is no city;
this is the center of a forest

Your place is empty.

A Monument

Prince Edward County Experiences

Sailboats from the Bay Bridge

We made a short drive out to Wellington today and took some other country roads to view vast and ripe fields of grain, fruit stands, vinyards and miles of shoreline on Lake Ontario.  It was an awesome thing…a beautiful day spent with my parents on Mom’s birthday.  I enjoyed a few short stops looking at churches, the one featured here, built in 1878.

1878 Mountain View United


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