Category: Poetry

Northeast
of Lake Ontario,
highlands,
outside of
Toronto
from what
I remember.

Summer.
August,
but cool.

Definitely in a
different part
of the country.

Green.
I remember it
being very green,
and there were
mountains,
not with peaks,
but like great
rising
and
falling
hills.

We were driving.
The road
was busy for a Saturday
in what seemed like
the middle of
nowhere.

That was over
twenty years ago,
but I remember
the peace of
driving, and
looking at the
scenery.

The white lines
of the road
really stick out
to me.
They were newly
painted
on a newly surfaced
stretch of road.

It was smooth, and
it was beautiful.
It felt good.
It looked good.

The cool Canadian
wind in my
face,
makes me think
of listening to
Gordon Lightfoot.

Who couldn’t
love Gordy
on a day like this…

A reminder that everything changes
and keeps on changing and you don’t have
to stay with it,
but you might as well go with it,
ride the wave,
go with the flow,
let it happen.

Make peace the fact that
you’ll be making peace
with change or
resisting it, i.e. fighting it
for a long time to come.
Well, until you don’t,
or can’t,
because you cease to be.
You cannot a fight against change.

This is a meditation.

Everything is a meditation.

How can I grow from this.

How can things be made better from this experience?

I’m not sure…
but I’ll start right now.