November 24-December 12, 2021

this city intrudes on my photographs

squeezes between words in my poems

it cannot be escaped, it surrounds me

kayaking up (or down) Duffins Creek

or paused on the Millers Creek bridge

or walking along the Waterfront Trail

or looking for the stars on an evening

the presence of this city is unavoidable

its lines, its light, its hustle, its bustle

are everywhere, are not to be ignored

and I wouldn’t have it any other way

so what if a streetlamp peers over trees

or a neighbour’s roof becomes a skyline

or only the brightest stars dance at night

these may not be the photos Ansel took

in his travels through our wildernesses

nor are these poems that Robert wrote

in his wintry wood of diverging roads

but this city is the frame that I inhabit

it would be rude of me not to let it peek

in around the edges of my photographs

this city holds the rhythm of my step

it would be small of me not to let it in

when it stands at the gate of my words