Wednesday, July 1, 2009

On this Canada Day morning...

This woman
Wears a red dress
And sits alone on a park bench.

This woman sits on a park bench
Wearing a red sleeveless
Sheath dress.

This woman sits on a park bench
In a red dress with no sleeves
Even though this Canada Day morn
Is quite cool.

This woman sits very still
On a park bench
It must have taken her
An hour to iron that red dress.

This woman sits on a park bench
As if alone In the world
Heedless of passing bus
On which I sit
Watching her in her solitude.

In her solitude
This woman sits primly
In her red dress,
Knees and ankles
Properly together,
As from another era.

An era of sheaths
And prim sitting
That I remember
In my bones.
Yes, she's wearing
Red spike heels
Also from that era.
After all, it is Canada Day
And red is called for.

This woman sits on a park bench,
Her head slightly bowed,
Maybe looking at a small bouquet
She holds in both hands
In her crisply ironed
Red cotton sateen lap.

This woman sits on a park bench
Moving her lips
Perhaps in conversation
With lap flowers..
Or perhaps in song...
Or perhaps in prayer.

This woman sits quietly
On a park bench...
Lips defining some intention:
She gently raises her head...
Eyes on gravestone before her.

This woman sits contained
On her park bench.
She nods and continues
Silent conversation
On this Canada Day morning.

Toronto, St. John's Norway Cemetery

1 July 09