Alan Pearson Poetry

With a jump and an echoing call,
you stood on a mossy log that lay across
the woodland path.
With arms upraised you stretched to hold
October's leaf-fall,
as a wind crossed Georgian Bay
to stir your dress. Then glowing
through a palisade of silver birch,
the splintery light of sunlit water
put fire in your hair,
as saffron leaves in tumult
rocked to earth.

We were away for a weekend
and far from home.

The motel window shivered:
roused from sleep we stood
and saw the freight train softly clang
as it sang of great distances.
The line of boxcars, flatcars, boxcars
rumblecd over the high black bridge
that spanned the roofs of Parry Sound
down by the old marina.

Chalk white beside the shadowy quay
the Island Queen on lapping waters,
dreamed of seasons past - leaning
against its creaking hawsers.
Along the deck's cool length
a dark-green breeze came filled with life
from conifers across the Bay.

All the night in nearby woods
the birch leaves drifted down.
Your echoing call, between the trees,
filtered through my dreams,
adding leaf-fall to enriching memory.

We were away for a weekend
and far from home.


	Parry Sound *(for Doreen)*




	With a jump and an echoing call, you stood on a mossy log that lay across the woodland path. With arms upraised you stretched to hold October's leaf-fall, as a wind crossed Georgian Bay to stir your dress. Then glowing through a palisade of silver birch, the splintery light of sunlit water put fire in your hair, as saffron leaves in tumult rocked to earth. We were away for a weekend and far from home. The motel window shivered: roused from sleep we stood and saw the freight train softly clang as it sang of great distances. The line of boxcars, flatcars, boxcars rumblecd over the high black bridge that spanned the roofs of Parry Sound down by the old marina. Chalk white beside the shadowy quay the Island Queen on lapping waters, dreamed of seasons past - leaning against its creaking hawsers. Along the deck's cool length a dark-green breeze came filled with life from conifers across the Bay. All the night in nearby woods the birch leaves drifted down. Your echoing call, between the trees, filtered through my dreams, adding leaf-fall to enriching memory. We were away for a weekend and far from home.