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Posts Tagged ‘bluebells’

Wine by the St. Lawrence

One summer we had wine by
the St. Lawrence on Howe Island,
as wide as a river can be,
as old a story a river can have,
a thousand islands dot that section,
as open as our bottles
of delicious red and white
that woke us up, inside-out,
and our eyes could feast on
the crafted scene, outside-in,
the day glittered away, flowed westward,
chased the sun in its colored trail.

We were with someone who watched
fireflies emerge and dance
their glitter dance up to the tops of
dark trees for the first time,
who had seen her first chipmunk
earlier that afternoon.
I remember noticing my first fuchsia,
those pink-petaled-purple-bells,
my first British robin, the first time
I noticed bluebells in the woods,
the things we miss and know,
the things we take for granted,
subtle gifts in something new, some quiet joy.

A silent howl for Howe Island
gave way to a full moon
over black water, black land,
black trees, black sky,
the moon was everything then.

Through all the dark silhouettes
it shimmered, glittered, an oil-spill of light,
danced sideways across the river
like ice-angel-wings that you could glide over,
step delicately over, tiptoe over, onto,
holding your breath to not be seen,
up that stairway, through the gap,
silver water, white land,
bright beams, to the moon.

Kyle McHale        2014

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