Radha Paula Neilson ≈ Poems From a trip to quebec






Front Porch Mornings



I have become a fixture here

on my mother’s front porch

mornings wrapped in layers and prayers

coffee cup in hand

neighbours wave

walking children to school

dogs on leashes

I watched green leaves turn yellow

brilliant in the sun

trees now skeletons

leaves displaced

from their branches

as I am

from my world



Hawks Lost


I had forgotten about the wind here

howling through narrow window openings

powerful enough

to slow a person’s walk

bend trees to breaking point

This morning the clouds rush

across the sky, grey on grey

The hawks have not returned

their dead trees

no longer stand

unsafe, with the wind in suburbia

a woodpile all that remains

I miss the hawks’ company

their call

that returns me to myself



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