The Village of Tobermory

The Village of Tobermory


“The planet Earth, saturated with sunlight, is a teardrop
from heaven, metamorphosed...”

                             —Naturalist, Avant-garde


Tobermory—
winks with a jewel of surprise
rocks carved into sculptures, transcending
a naturalist’s dream,
of terrain and islands a-haunting
tailor-made and sun-draped with
melancholy seams—
calling out like a siren, “come hither”
crying a lonesome cry—
come be inspired by blue waters, abutting blue skies
reflected by deep running...
blue-green are her eyes

A village, harbouring twin harbours,
where the misty fogs arise, from crystalline
the cold waters, her geological
majesty overrides—
—spellbinding
this Georgian Bay chanting
songs, by apparitions of yesteryear
seeking to lure wanderers to reservations revered.

They are the spirits of the indigenous
and mariners,
the settlers of this craggy, ragged shore;
still hiking the Escarpment long, claiming, still
the land…embedded with ledges and of lore—
in this quiet corner of the world
—the Bruce Peninsula
where rugged nature relinquishes, forlorn.

The ghosts, now stowaways
whisper
into breezes
about farers from long ago—
from shipwrecks scattered under water
as if sprinkled by giant hands;
hosting modern-day swashbucklers—the scuba divers—
seeking their adventures grand.

And the pilgrimage of artists,
stream
braving talent versus harsh tranquility;
translating cliff-life, a-dwelling
living, oh so precariously—
capturing the results
of gale-force winds...a thunderous crash!
while winded conifers stand their guard
watching over,
are painted with weathered, wizened and very old hands.

But shhh...
amongst the churning chaotic
mysteries still abound
for sleepy, silent orchids also thrive
augmenting a forested background.

Tobermory—

Formidable,
yet peaceful, lay this land
as diversity presents austere;
held prisoner by a climate that strands, its phantoms whistle
reaching distant ears.

From cedar trees to Flowerpots
the gnarly visions take their shape,
beckoning to lives most weary, “Come
adventure for goodness sake!”—
—take some rest and be rocked
by the spectacle of a pristine, nature’s wake!