Curated by Deirdre Kessler
STORMY WEATHER, GEORGIAN BAY
after F. H. Varley, c. 1920
You chose this vantage. Run with it: the wind—
from frail and clinging to the rock, to whatsoever
face a rippled world insinuates. Yes, run. Swirl
the cloak of many needles; green it green and,
reeling, ever greener; swing your sweeper to the
far-off, white-capped cohort, curling sage and wily
olive strokes into a spatter, flat against the split-rocked
shore. An azure streak? A scumble? Yes, but never roots
beyond the blue horizon. Who cares if the very blast that
whips white mist into a frenzy of philology, wrapping limbs
about you in a coat that is impossible to tear, then scuds you—
close as you have ever been to scudding—into the stippled grey
of matter? For the moment, you are sunning on the outcrop,
running on the spot. And it is good for clouds to know their place.
—Julie Dennison. The Medium. Saturday Morning Chapbooks, 2003.
PEI poet laureate Deirdre Kessler selects a poem a month by an Island poet for readers of The Buzz.