I can smell a storm coming

From miles and miles away

It’s something I could do

The scent of rain and iron

Hang heavy in the air

I can smell a storm coming

Like an army over the horizon

And everything gets quiet

Like an attempt at too normal

Before the black skies tear

I can smell a storm coming

Will it wash the filth away

Or come drown us in it

I can smell a storm coming

Go warn the ones who care

There is a kind of glory in a rain-washed day

of blue, and green, and golden sun spray

And if there were a god

This is where they’d be

In this small, quiet moment

Alone in this place with me

But i am content

To breathe it in

To let it caress my skin

A solitary witness

Rain, then sun, then cloud

Then rain again with thunder loud

But look, sun peeks through once more

This strange morning suggests

A day of conflict and confusion

If one believed such things

But the grass is greener now

And stitched with shadow-edged gold

As the heavy air presses down

Like comforting blankets piled high

While crystal water falls from a laden sky

Drip, drip, drip

Small, soft hammers tap this world

Purifying it… washing away the dark

Bright birdsong heralds some new thing

Rising with intent in the faithful east

Tempting us to join the chorus of tweets

As if no other days had come before

As if this day was the first

Of countless many more

And I am solitary, grateful witness,

A living improbability

Hearing, feeling, seeing

That which shouldn’t be

This impossibility

Of life…of death…

Of anything with breath

Or anything at all

But words are too small

And life too short

To do justice to what it is

To be.

It was a witch who said

“By the pricking of my thumbs

Something wicked this way comes”

As Macbeth strode towards her

Full of fire

Full of false noble desire

A witch…

What would it take,

What kind of mistake

For a witch to declare

That something wicked approaches?

Dante would have put him

In the ninth circle of hell;

And what would they say

If you or i walked their way?

How do you get out of your own head

You looked and saw a light out

And wandered in to check the bulb

But lost your way in the labyrinth

You’ve been there ever since

It feels like forever since you walked

In the open air

Canada Day

Canada eh

It is another day

An artificial day

A tribal day

To celebrate occupation

But

To celebrate

Who we are?

Maybe…

Who we want to be.

It’s complicated.

Was it ever not?

Maybe in another

Century or two

It will be a day

Everyone

Will love.