Tonight I call to my heart to return,
to give flesh to the dry beanlike
thing in its place. I dance looking out
over the mountain at dusk, small lights
bright on the hillside – a whole city turning
dark – close my eyes and sing to it,
feel a flutter of wing beats,
like spring returning. One star sighted
just above the horizon. Feet planted on
wooden floor feel small yet part
of sky stars mountain breathing
rocking on soles of my feet.
Outside the window, streetlamps
line Park Avenue like pilgrims on their way
to the cross, light.
In Mount Royal park, an angel
spreads her wings over the dark.
Jennifer Boire
