This is a piece inspired from Don McKay's "To Speak of Paths".
|Uncouth dangers in calm waters
“Clouds this evening
The same as always, like thirst,
The same red dress, unfastened
Our new beginnings, our eagerness, our trust,“ Yves Bonnefoy
The path the hills take slopes downwards
and reveals nature protected by the ferns and conifers.
The bushes are shaded by the conifers
that line the periphery of the pastoral lake,
a quiescent break in the unruly tangles of wilderness.
One thinks the suffocation from the roots and thorns
offers no reprieve;
but there lies a weather-worn abode
on the precipice of water’s edge
sheltered by the very character that scratches the exterior.
Towards the back is the picket fence that guards
the orange glow lighting the shadows of the lake.
Trust is not a fickle creature,
nourishing the boondocks of nature.
It is the mountain, topped
with clouds giving way to the beginning of the end
signalled with drafts of cool air. The imminent sunset –
a mirror of closed deals.
An apt description of another day begone,
what is a new beginning
if not a twin twilight just behind the clouds...