Memories of Montréal

For some reason this morning I started to think about the four years we lived in Montréal, riding the subway, visiting the Old Port, the street musicians. Here are a few memories…

Old Port buskers
captivating Andes flutes
drummer a beat behind

stilt man
steps up his McGill tuition
future architect

subway guitar player
revs up as we pass
notes in his case

“just a dollar madam
milk for my little girl”
here’s hoping

dusty old derelict
his haunting “Oh Danny Boy”
pulls out tears and toonies

shivering beggar
on a downtown street
I donate my lunch

Latino singer
my silly feet start dancing
“ba ba bamba”

Image: efes — Pixabay

Industrial Sparrow

Sparrow alone.jpg

Sparrow on the warehouse step
huddled against the March wind
a bit of fluff on the splattered steel
searching for a crumb.

No food for you, poor bird,
unless you find in the dumpster;
among the trash and flattened boxes
some workman’s lunch leavings,
a stale office-party doughnut.

Only cardboard, steel, concrete
in the industrial section of town.
We make the ovens, the baking pans,
and hopefully some dough to share
but no bread for shivering waifs.