Eleven at Night in Norway
Tonight the sky changed colours
over and over
and the colours changed places
and shapes in the sky.
Now they are behind the trees
and I am behind the trees.
You might come looking for me here.
But I am not hiding,
just standing, watching
– not for the stars of course, for
they will never come out
on this north summer night –
but for the swallows,
who dip and dive, soar and plummet,
and suddenly turn.
and the ever changing colours
of the sky.
The air is cooler now.
The peach colour has spread itself out
like a gentle body
behind the black of the trees.
It will not say good night,
it will just lie down
and become lighter
until there is nothing
but a light blue night.
Good Night Thank You
Moving towards sleep
I light a candle in my room
to make the moving slower
to make the light low enough
to rest by.
I close my eyes and tell myself
the things I’m grateful for. Or
I tell God.
I do not know who God is
or even if he or she or we exist
yet still, I tell God. I say
For the scent of flowers in darkness
as I walked across the yard tonight
For my parents.
For my sister whom I so love, even though it’s hard at times
and I sometimes wonder if she’s judging me
for not laughing when something’s funny
and I wonder if she knows how fucking tired I am, I say
For my ability to stop there
and remember the way she hugs me: solid, warm.
how beautiful her face in evening light.
for this last week of working
with a group of children who are no longer children
Singing their way through a play I’m teaching them,
as they drink in the sunshine of their very last days
as this group, with no idea
of how they will look back on this time
full of light and music
and the energy that only fourteen-year-olds have
that love for each another, that excitement for the next open door
of I love you, I hate you, good bye, I don’t need you. I say
Thank you for these last few days.
help me to remember
when they are giggling , shouting, running,
slamming bathroom doors instead of
in place on stage saying their lines
How I love them.
For this place I live in,
where summer seems to never come
then suddenly it’s here, upon us
gobbling us up, embracing us,
the happy rushing water
soaked in sunshine in early morning.
People always say,
Canada, isn’t it really cold there?
I like to say
Yes, but not always. Sometimes it’s like this:
I say Thank You
that this morning I was full of enough energy to ride
a forty minute bike ride to work and make it in thirty-five
panting and happy at age thirty-five.
Back to that night scent of flowers and the candle I lit in my bedroom –
I say thank you every night to me,
I whisper it to God, I pray it.
Thank you for this life,
Bless my sleep, my waking too,