Written on the Toronto waterfront looking across to the islands.  It was not quite yet summer, but being a child of the Sun, I was in my habitual spot determined that it was Spring enough to be outdoors writing.  The Sun that day wasn't really sure if she was going to hang out or have a nap but she persevered and I persevered and the following reflection emerged.

Dance
 

Clouds move in.

 

No warning.

Cut off from the life-giving warmth

of the sun, in whose light and radiance

I absorb life, create meaning, I am undone.

 

A gap.

 

She returns.

 

Her momentary flirtation reminds me

of the joy of simple presence. 

 

Clouds breach connection, once more

spurn intimacy. Shadows gather, thunder rolls,

the greyness of the gathering clouds, a barrier.

A threat of stormy weather, pierced through

by rays of light and warmth.

 

I remain, in the memory of light,

waiting for distance to disperse;

blown away by spring winds,

by hope,

by constancy.

 

I remain.

 

She returns.

 

I release everything, and dance. 


 

Fiona Mackintosh (© 2011)

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