beaver pond thaw

Abyss of Lost

dark pit stank of burrowed sorrow
draws heart's gaze from all that's sweet
no hope or ray of joy to borrow
the murk of past cements soul's feet

paved over

A Crack in the Asphalt

I dream of lush, forested cities with sweet public spaces and meandering walking trails; vibrant community gardens and nimble-fingered sewing guilds; children skipping double-dutch and men pedalling bikes. I dream of sparkling lakes, blue skies and soft rain; tart red apples and fiddlehead greens. I dream of laughter and song, kind deeds and honour.

Together, we dream the future.