A mixture of thoughts

As I gazed out the balcony window from my desk early this morning a tiny bird propelled itself not far from where I sat directly outward across the open field, swooping and sailing up then plunging down to a large wavering tree on the far edge of the tilled soil where it disappeared into the mass of towering greenery. It was a cloudy day, the rising sun disrupted by a mixture of grey and white bundles, fluffy streaks and hints of clear blue patterns among the beshevelled curtains. A cock crew, birds chirped and sang. The sun, unblotted, suddenly glistened hot then vanished cool again.

As the wind blew from the north, the ceiling miraculously separated and opened in elongated avenues across the horizon. The repeated choir of sounds from the parliament of songbirds. geese and hens complicated the refreshing morning air. The choppy river platform, now a sapphire palette, looked to head against the flow.

By mid-afternoon following our substantial breakfast upriver at the golf club in the Village of Appleton, the sky was an azure dome. Instantly the glory of the picture invigorated my bubbling inquisitiveness about the perfection and meaning of life. The fright is not the fear of death; rather, the fear that life will loose its purpose and allure. Once the duty of Nature is fulfilled, as the seed blooms then withers, the obstacle does not lie ahead but rather behind. Fascinating oneself with life without function is a contradiction not to be had. Everything then turns in upon itself. It were better to retire to the country with one’s book and one’s bottle as to pretend to manufacture the glee that was youth and growth.

Yet this remorseful spiritual vantage did not succeed to dampen my vulgar groundling spirit. There yet remains time to contemplate all that has past, to stare aimlessly at the fattened tiny birds upon the fence, to enjoy at last the unhinged object of my curiosity, thankful to be where I am, nowhere to go, nothing to do.

The Garden Party

We’ve been invited to a garden party.
It’s planned for the middle of June.
The weather promises to be sublime.
The occasion can’t happen too soon!

We’ve been invited to a garden party.
The venue approaches the moon.
It’s scheduled to happen upon the deck
Of a balcony high as a balloon!

We’ve been invited to a garden party.
The view of the river’s nearby.
The neighbourhood crowd can bring what it likes;
The object is talk and say hi!

We’ve been invited to a garden party.
A consortium of resident friends.
It announces the start of the summer sun;
We know it’ll start a new trend!

We’ve been invited to a garden party
We already know what to wear.
Something comfortably smart and not too hot.
We’re all just friends en plein air!

L. G. William Chapman, B.A., LL.B. and Denis J. Arial
Saturday, June 15, 2024

225 Johanna St Almonte Ontario