Walking to work on avenue de Gaspé, she looks at the trees just starting to bud. A seagull screeches overhead. She smiles and wonders if he is announcing to his buddies of some overturned garbage can.
one lone feather on this city street where’s the white dove?
one lone feather
message from above
dearly departed
on this city street
searching for leftovers
doves and gulls
where`s the white dove?
Maman, es-tu vraiment là?
ma belle, Colombe
The artist was excited as she hung her last canvas for her vernissage at the local public library. She was always impressed at the amount of people who showed up on weekends, rain or shine for these humble viewings. Under each canvas she went around to tape on the wall a haiku her niece sister had written , adding subtle and thoughtful meaning to her art.
light of day fades fragmented promises slip away
light of day fades
thoughts that once, seemed important
seem to disappear
fragmented promises
never had
the time of day
slip away unfulfilled promises
just can’t turn back time
She had rented a car for the weekend. Rather than get her usual economical car like a Hyundai Accent or Nissan Versa, the manager offered her a Fiat because she mentioned how she missed her old Renaud V and this was about the same size. But, the Fiat was rented already and he offered her the VW Beetle. She thought of the first car her sister drove in the early ‘70’s. Yep, they had had good times in that are driving in snowstorms to go shopping or get to a hairdresser’s appointment in a town 30 km away. She remembers fondly a photo she has of her sister and nephew in front of the dark blue VW Beetle with a lime green flower painted on the front hood. Yes those were the days of flower power.
Three hours before returning the car, she drove to a mall to look for running shoes, but with her large feet she could not find anything that fit comfortably. She stopped at a florist and picked a bright orange flower and added green flora and leaves since it was her mother’s favourite colour. She looked at the arrangement and was pleased with the finished product until she arrived at the cemetery and saw such beautiful flora arrangements. She made a mental note to choose larger flowers. Mom would have liked to stand out more.
She went to fetch water to pour into the vase, hoping the flowers would remain beautiful for a week or two. On Mother’s day, she thought out loud, she would rent a car again and bring her a lovely arrangement.
As she placed the flowers in the vase over the gravesite, she noticed one green flower kept pointing towards the highway away from the front. She chuckled at that thinking that her mom was probably giving her a message. She had chosen this plot facing the highway going towards her favourite shopping mall. Her mother DID love to shop until we all dropped and she was still going.
Maybe it was the sunny day or all the beautiful flowers at different gravesites, but she felt sadder than other times she had been in the other visits here.
Sunflowers are happy, vibrant and very tenacious flowers. Her favourite flower is really the daisy but she is not as keen with the French translation,” marguerite”, and so she chose sunflower to be her nom-de-plume, hence, Tournesol. C’est vraiment plus joli comme nom, n’est-ce pas?*
The blossom later in the season but what is so wonderful, is seeing is blooming late summer beginning of autumn and even in mid November, she has seen the same sunflowers on her walk to work, stand strong and proud growing from the concrete just off rue St-Denis in Montreal.
September blossoms
hope of eternal colours
the first snowfall
Years ago when I was a pre-schooler, there was a family gathering at our grandparents home. Aunts, uncles and oodles of cousins were swimming, splashing and having a grand old time. My cousin and I sat in the row boat and I am still not sure who did what but in a few minutes we discovered we were in the middle of the river! I just remember crying like a baby …
swims to the rowboat,
uncle Bernie saves the day
my hero!
The Great Spirit works in mysterious ways, like when I felt a homeless person at the Métro Laurier made me think…maybe, just maybe it was Amma checking to see if I would be more giving. I hightailed back inside the station to give money to that man.
Years ago when I had just moved to a city far from my hometown, I had just left my daughter at the bus terminal and was walking down Yonge Street which is a bit like Ste-Catherine in Montreal. I already missed my family and walking down the street I had not realised that tears were running down my cheeks. A homeless man standing at his “station for the night” in front of a retired theatre shouted out to me, “Hey, Lady, smile, nothing can be that bad.” I turned around and saw this toothless man, smiling and waved acknowledgement to that kind man. That man who had so little, was encouraging ME.
Tonight I heard about a young boy who passed way beyond his years.A volunteer counsellor accompanied him onto his journey…towards the light. I wonder if the Great Spirit planned this journey at a time the full moon shone on his path. An angel was born, I thought to myself. So many stars are not seen by the naked eye and yet I knew…
Thankfully, the Great Spirit places angels on this earth for a reason, those two homeless men and the volunteer counsellor.
angelic and pure life goes on look! a mourning star
angelic and pure
innocence
heaven’s open arms
life goes on
in another world
afterlife
look, a mourning star
please don’t cry
pain-free at last
Tournesol dans un Jardin 