Presence 75

dog leaning over
       the edge of the dock    as the ferry
            fades into mist

Keith J. Coleman

with summer gone
I write about


try again
and fail better
autumn leaves

Ernest Wit

growing up
without a horizon
I left home
to get out of
the woods

Cynthia Anderson

autumn’s fall
bearing home
her urn
to the shelf
she used to dust

John Hawkhead

Broken Spells

They are common to all of us. Fleeting moments of no particular consequence we wish would last forever. But the sun finally sets, the cat tires of sitting on a knee and goes her own way, a favourite piece of music slowly comes to an end. We sigh, shake our heads, and get on with the next thing to be done.

fading tapestry …
a few silver threads
still catch the sun

— Susan King