Lie Detector
Hope does indeed - bafflingly
enough - spring eternal, at
least in the feverish minds of
avid collectors under the illusion
that "you never know" what may
appear, some unexpected treasure,
to meet the acquisition
compulsion satisfying the
parameters signalling value,
beauty, skill, composition, design
craftsmanship and desired materials
to present as an object of merit.
Patience is never more a virtue
as initially appealing objects
reveal themselves as degraded
counterfeits and the collector
sighs in weary resignation, if
not downright disbelief that a
seller whose anxiety to dispose
of the questionable object must be
at least as great as the potential
purchaser's to claim it, offers his
paltry pretence at a hugely inflated
price reflecting a distorted kind
of commercial dance between a
connoisseur and a charlatan, a
poorly choreographed waltz of
indifference and greed sparring
with acquisitiveness and resignation.
Exiting Summer
There are glimpses, through the
canopy of beech and birch,
maple and oak, of a wide
blue sky, and the sun in full
sail on that ocean of blue
sending bright luminous
shafts of light to flicker like
a mirror on the rippling
mountain brook, sliding down
the mountainside, slithering
like a live creature, around and
over the litter of rocks pebbling
the water's raceway, playing a
musical rush, roar and tinkle
as an orchestral counterpoint
to the brilliant peals of a passing
bluejay. Fall-tinctured foliage
flutters gracefully from branch to
forest floor, silently abandoning
life. The oak too add to the
seasonal turnover, their acorns
steadily released in the wind,
unlike the foliage, emitting an
audible !crack! of dismay, as
they meet the ground; the varied
details involved in nature's current
absorption; deconstructing summer.
Sweet Nostalgia
Sweet and acidic, the flavours
of fall fragrance accompany
our late September forest hike
through and around the sloped
environs of a mountain landscape.
The green shield of hemlock,
pine and spruce a verdant contrast
to the brash vibrancy of dogwood,
sumac and maple foliage, fiery
red as though in angered protest
at the annual humiliation of
their winter-forced defoliation.
Their defiance with the sunburst
gold of birch, the burnt umber
of beech and oak, presents a
marvel of autumnal mosaic,
treating our vision to a yearly
feast it has never tired of
devouring. A Whitethroat sparrow
trills its song, already yearning
for spring's return even while
it is routed by survival's unerring
instinct to depart, joining the
arrowed flocks of geese regimented
southward. Fall's advent is a
timeless event of shared nostalgia.
Imperfect Sympathy
Grinding toward September's end
fall since officially arrived,
we're gratified to have our
expectations met, for the view
of the forest leaping up the
mountainside is one of
breathtaking beauty,
colour enhanced by the burnt
umber, scarlets and gold gradations
of the surrounding woods,
lapping against the slopes
brandishing their autumnal
hues. The fog finally lifted,
the sky's vault as blue as blue,
puffed clouds like woolly sheep
grazing here and there, a
chill hinting of colder days
to come. It's as though the trees
are embarrassed at their
imminent return of naked limbs.
They're in full blush, anticipating
their soon-to-be naked canopy.
They've been there before and
so have we, commiserating
over thoughts of returning to
short winter days and long, frigid
nights, shivering in our very
own naked vulnerability.
Relations
Old enough now to have
experienced the indelibility
of words which
once spoken
hang on thunderclapped air
and inscribe themselves
forever on the reeling mind
she takes deep breath
and instead
pierces me with the
anger of her eyes,
their deadly shafts
speaking more clearly
than past emotional
incoherences.
and I wonder,
did I ever
hate my mother to that
same transitional degree?
Could my mother
have been the devious
roadblock to happiness
I am presumed to be
or was she always
how I perceive her now
a simple-minded
and trusting survivor.
And So, Be It Resolved
Shackled through the covenant
of marriage, where is autonomy?
And where complete autonomy is
absent, so is freedom, the liberty to
do as you wish when you wish to,
with whomever the fancy takes. A
second, a third and a final thought
on the matter leads to the firm
conclusion of conviction born of
a half-century's value of experience
working toward the second tranche
of a century and therefore be it
resolved that this signee to that
convention has the priceless freedom
to enjoy life in the steadfast company
of that other; the freedom to share
joys and sorrows, confidences and
confidence, labours and recreation,
conversations and bedroom intimacies
some not even in the bedroom, along
with adventures and sojourns,
delights and surprises, danger and
rescue, hope, health and survival.
