as I coil
to the other and back
Northerly winds sooth cool pseudo heat.
Gone are the scorched canyons.
The taste of sweet viscous dates
fades away with sticky maple sap drips
salted sea diluted by a shimmering lake.
We too are mellower now,
as we grow older in this calm country
igneous skin softened by snow drifts
age spots etched by thunderstorms
like scattered basalt rocks on a hill
that was once a battlefield.
now it’s a winery.
so I drink red wine
in silent salute
of a young country
and a young woman.
Then I sift through the pebbles on the beach
carefully picking pieces of beach glass holding them up
as a cold sun
sets over Sarnia
and a hot moon
I am home.