Afternoon Meditations

A year ago, as a potential resident of London, ON, I spent a gorgeous summer afternoon in Victoria Park. My husband was coming to the city for his final round of a job interview, and I tagged along, just in case we didn’t get a chance to visit the city again. Sitting in this expansive park that afternoon, I contemplated what it would be like to live in London. As I complete a year in the forest city, here are my impressions from a summer ago.

London

A children’s festival is in progress in Victoria Park. I sit on a bench and see squirrels and birds engaging in mini battles over morsels.

Squirrels scamper in ceaseless motion–climbing up and down trees, scurrying across the grass, pausing in wonderment for a few seconds before taking off again.

Dogs, kids in strollers enjoy free walks, rides.

Church bells ring; lunch-goers emerge from offices, heading to big and small eateries to satiate the hunger god.

A man sprawls on the grass, reading a newspaper.

Beside me, on the bench, the pages of a national daily flutter in midsummer’s breeze, letting go of the heaviness of yesterday’s news.

Under a tree, a girl sits alone, ear-phones plugged into her natural audio sockets.

I turn behind and find a brown squirrel looking at me intently.

A young couple sleeps on the grass, embracing each other, oblivious of the world around them.

Alien Winter — I

Sun erases snow
wind howls
winter beseeches.
The church spire
stands mute,
unmoved,
cold.

The wind pauses
its howl,
lunchtime beckons.
School children run
to grab a
windfall of leaves.

Snow motes swirl
ruffling the air’s hair,
the earth’s an eager
bosom.
Children conjure up
castles, snowmen.

The wind screams
tearing through
flags, bare trees
windows
and a sheet of
congealed memory,
unfreezing on the
surfacce–
a foggy morning in
my hometown
half a world
away.

Alien Winter — II

Alien Winter — III