…I just can’t leave it alone. The image in Gallery is from 2012, the year spring started in February. It was warm enough in early March to lie in the grass and watch the geese fill the sky with noise. The poem in Reading Room, came later, in 2016, but still inspired by that unmistakable blue of March.
That sky evokes miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles (my mother’s description of Alberta), emptiness, the primordial, the boreal. The flat features of the late winter sky and earth bring the never-seen tundra into reach, the deadgrass prairie into view, the lay of the land into perfect focus.
What is visible in this clean space? The black birds, the green moss, the brown dirt, and flashes of a human life.