In the winter-time, in Montreal
You stay huddled in the city
Safe amidst the salt and slush - the
Hamster’s wheel metro a mere two blocks
Away.
It is only when Spring
Breaks upon the land, like a golden egg,
And the threat of ice and snow recedes
That you venture forth with
Wild-heart yearning,
Seek the hawthorn and alder tangle,
The grace of maple-blessed hillsides.
Oh! Receive me, sweet Mother that is the
land!
Or you head South,
Pretend you feel at home there.
Pretend it’s better.
Still, you’re waiting
Once again
For Winter’s well-known imperatives
To melt away,
Freeing you
To go
Back
Home.
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