it’s the silent moment now
the closing of summer before summer end
a rock line
Georgian bay line
i guided travelers searching
painted trees from a once upon renaissance
am i Canadian?
how long should i sit here in the silent noise
i’m lost on the James Bay….
i am not Cndn – i am something more
perhaps yours? perhaps hers and theirs
am i original clay
a fishing lodge off shore?
perhaps watching the ice floes
hunting my witness form from God –
here as a permanent cottager