Mile High Reflections

Expecting snow, and ski-crazed folks

And finding sophistication and politeness

That made us feel more Canadian than

We were used to; Saks Fifth Avenue

Solar panel crops, Hermes, sky scraping

Buildings that seemed sculpted to suit

The landscape and everywhere flowers

 

A city as lush as Victoria, on Vancouver

Island, with out-sized blossoms all over

Even though it was a dry spring and the

Creek was low, the cottonwoods just now

Beginning to blow fuzz; Pike’s Peak still

Heavy with its bounty of run-off not yet

Forth-coming; hard to imagine it would

Get greener still, this Eden-like Denver

On Wings of Silver

It is dawn, or very nearly so

And from outside my tiny window

I can see the far horizon’s rosy glow

A coral shade that’s only barely there

Beneath the faded blue of everywhere

And still old Luna, she’s stays up, and fair

At forty thousand feet, we’re flying up above

A planet far below, the third rock that I love

And as always, I am travelling with a peace dove

Nestled deep, well-hidden within my heart

A symbolic bird of hope, as real to me as any part

Helps me to stay a course I’ll try never to depart

Hours later, sleep-fed, and many miles gone too

I know that soon I’ll land and then I’ll be with you

Luna is pale but winks at me, even she bids me, adieu

Z is for Zee, or Zed, or Zenith

Just when you suspect you might be getting

A little bit past your prime, not old exactly

But no longer a youngster either – the coolest

Thing can occur; if you happen to be one

Of the lucky ones, you’ll get a grandchild to love

And this gift will slough years off you as if

You’ve had surgery, remarkable, magical surgery

Where once you might have been winding down

You will begin again winding back up

Re-energized, filled with a joie de vive

That you vaguely remember from when your

Own kids were young and everything seemed

Possible, do-able, and potential was unlimited

It won’t be the end or the middle even but the

Best of all possible times, the zenith you’ll

Think, has finally arrived, and you are ready

White Shirt by Laurie MacFayden: a review by S.E.Ingraham

White Shirt, Laurie MacFayden’s debut collection of poems, is filled with contradictions and affirmations, all of which contribute to leading the reader down paths that echo with the voice of this enigmatic, seemingly straight-forward, and anything but, word-weaver. A one-time sports-writer, MacFayden’s predilection for hockey and all things boyish is reflected in poems such as “five hole” but, just as you’re sure you’ve got her number, figured her out, she flays you raw with something as lovely and somewhat feminine feeling as “song for bedtime”. MacFayden’s voice is as gravelly on the page as it is on the microphone, as much a pleasure to read as it is to hear. With seemingly boundless courage, she takes a hard look at life and reports back her thoughts in words unique to her experience. Let’s hope she’s just getting started.

Yes

It all comes down to this she said

Writing, getting along, life, winning—

Losing even— when you think about

The big picture or the smallest

Things—the really important word

Or maybe it’s not the word so

Much as an attitude—the really

Essential ingredient you need

Is an open-ness to everything and

A willingness that allows you

To experience anything and every-

thing that comes your way, even

If just for a moment, or a little bit

Of time – just drink it in, say yes

To it all, and you will be the richer

For it, she said, say yes.