Victoria Day

A cold rain comes down on Victoria Day,

The annual northern rain.

 

It touches the closed storefronts and freshly woken grass

And the chill in the wind insults the trees still leaving.

 

There is disappointment in this climate,

The underdelivery of the weekend

That has once again opened up,

Apologetically.

The temperature belies a temperament

Where one needs to dig deep to either celebrate

Or just stay warm.

 

Walking across the exhibition grounds,

My footfall lands directly in the puddle I'm trying to step over.

This climate comes to me from the ground up.

 

We all stand in a crowd, a collective

To watch the fireworks display,

Clutching hot chocolate, Tim Hortons,

Each other under blankets,

Looking to the skies for that colour,

Looking into the darkening clouds at the end of the day.

 

Then the sounds come

And light pierces into the moment.

Colour blossoms and a battery awakens the air,

Bouncing off our chests and faces.

We resound, delighted.

 

When it's over, we race the crowds

To get out to the safety and warmth of our homes

 

We escape, not to be caught in the humanity,

Our retinas still holding the memory of light in the night.

 

Victoria Day is over for another year

And summer is now expected.

Reviews

[Wildecat]

A beautiful Canadian poem, I have some wonderful Canadian friends, Well done.

[Sarah B.]

Very nice Canadian poem!

[Spoken]

you take me right into the crowd with your words. Excellent write my friend.

[Cardinal Robin]

You capture the persistence of the rain and it's effect on steel...wonderfully, anyone who has been there will attest you got it! Lovely!