story

The Sled Dog

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The Sled Dog
He was a weather-toughened, soldierly sled-dog
used to long, torturous runs
and the confusion of human hands and voices
unpredictably kind or harshly cruel
since the days he was a pup.
He pulled his heavy burdens of past and present
as if they were part of his own being,
part of his own thoughts and memories,
and as if the other dogs were merely
part of that burden to be endured.
He loved running
and the illusion of freedom it gave him.
He even almost loved the female he’d just mated with
but it left him feeling too vulnerable, too open,
as if exposing his underbelly
to hungry wolves and vicious dogs
sure to take advantage of any perceived weaknesses.
It was just too dangerous
to allow himself to love and trust her.
He’d known countless unspeakably painful betrayals
and savage attacks in his pup days,
and so surrounded his heart
with protective blocks of ice and rock.
If she dared try to penetrate that barrier,
he’d punish her with swift blows and surly snarls.
How he loved running
and the illusion of freedom it gave him!
June, 1992 revised April, 2004

The Dolphin

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The Dolphin
Shock and revulsion swept through him
in a swift, devastating wave
as he witnessed the intentional pollution
of waters essential to so many lives.
The dolphin struggled with his keen intelligence
to understand these strangest of sea-faring mammals.
They were curious, callous, and cruel,
these dominant killers of the aquatic world.
The pollution was everywhere!
He felt an overpowering sense of panic
and began to emit distress signals,
thrashing about in the fouled water.
Not knowing where to leap or dive,
his hopes slowly drowned in despair
of such arrogantly contemptuous destruction.
Polluted clouds formed from polluted waters
then marched with strong, polluted winds
to vent their raging, vengeful furies
on polluted sea and polluted land.
With them, the dolphin’s distress signals
echoed long unheeded warnings
of this insanely suicidal species
destroying the environment of their own world.
Listen…Do you hear him now?
March, 1992 revised May, 2004

At Lone Wolf Lake

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At Lone Wolf Lake
Years later the memory sprang suddenly to mind.
“Whatever possessed me?” I wondered aloud.
“What a wild and crazy thing to do!”
Dad had said, “Try fishing Lone Wolf Lake”
when I sought to entertain a visitor from the south.
“Okay,” I replied, determined to give him
a taste of our Northern Ontario wilderness
that he’d not soon forget.
Lines cast from shore, I saw his wolfish grin
as we waited in the hot, still air.
Oh, oh! I said silently to the swarm of blackflies.
Am I Little Red Riding Hood to his Big Bad Wolf?
As he tried to devour me with an unwelcomed kiss,
we heard loud, crashing sounds advancing toward us.
Relief transformed into awe in that magical moment.
A magnificent bull moose appeared.
He stood in his power and glory just a few yards away,
head slightly bent in a challenging stance.
Oh, oh! I said silently to the mosquitos. What now?
Then a sense of predatory wildness came over me
with a fearless courage unlike I’d ever felt.
The moose reacted instinctively, turned around,
and headed back into the bush as fast as it could
with me chasing after it, unarmed, and running
as if my life depended upon the hunt.
When the feeling passed, I stopped, shook my head,
and waited ’til the Big Bad Wolf caught up.
He’d changed too. A sheepish grin. Fear in his eyes.
I laughed then, as I do now.
Whatever possessed me at Lone Wolf Lake?
February, 2000 revised march, 2004

A Fox Tale

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A Fox Tale
You are being cunningly deceived,
warned the red fox with the sly smile.
Once again it had jumped from my hands
to lie down on the table before me.
Tell me how! I demanded to know
of this fox who spoke to my imagination—
but to no avail. It was silent again.
Frustrated, I set the gypsy picture cards aside.
So many silent foxes in my life, I thought,
remembering encounters through the years.
The curious, silent fox waiting patiently for us
on the side of a sunlit country road—
the huge, silent fox passing close by me
as we picked wild blueberries on a sandy hill…
There were other foxes too,
all silent totem-messengers of Nature.
Tell me how, I prayed to the Universe,
trusting the red fox’s answer would finally come.
Late that evening my teenage son arrived,
breathless, wide-eyed, and excited.
“Mom, you won’t believe this,
but a red fox just followed me
right from the restaurant downtown
into our driveway at home!
Then I smiled a slow, sly fox smile.
“Do you have something to tell me, son?”
February, 2000

Shopping For Groceries

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Shopping For Groceries
Just an ordinary day. Nothing special to do.
We drove to the Grocery Store, where on cue
our ‘Parking Angels Prayer’ worked its grace
in gifting us with a close parking space.
Taking Grocery Stores for granted as we often do—
abundance and variety of goods fresh and new—
we pulled out our list and headed down the aisles,
filling the cart and exchanging fast smiles.
Seeing the Produce where fruit and ‘veggies’ lay
in a sense-awakening, colourful display—
suddenly it wasn’t just an ordinary day
as the scene before me began to fade away.
Only Dan, the Produce man, somehow remained
and I watched him as he silently strained
to reach for pears high up in a tree
near where I knew lush gardens to be.
Beyond them were kept many hives of bees.
Their honey flavoured our Monastery’s cheese,
sweet bread, and our own very special sweet wine.
Having Communion there was truly divine!
Seeds, as precious as scrolls of parchment I kept
beneath the bed where I wearily slept,
were carefully gathered for future need.
We had so many brown-robed Brothers to feed!
Dan descended the ladder saying a prayer
for a bountiful harvest and the strength to bear
the burdens and demands of that austere life
in a land long oppressed by sword and by strife.
He turned to me with a pear and a smile,
and then I realized that all the while
we each had a different body and face
that were lost somewhere in time and space.
The scene dissipated as I became aware
of standing transfixed while holding a pear.
I didn’t know what to think or say,
but my heart sure rejoiced to see this day!
To questioning looks I happily laughed.
Why tell them, I thought. They’ll call me daft!
It’s enough that I’m now one who knows.
Nothing is ‘ordinary’! Everything ‘glows’!
How I savour this life with pure delight—
for what can be ‘common’ in my sight?
Every atom in and about me dances and sings
to the music and mystery of heavenly things.
Shopping for groceries here is such a treat.
There are so many ‘colourful’ characters to meet
amidst food and flowers of radiant light—
bright enough to awaken your soul’s inner sight.
August, 2000