14 January 2009

No Work



Down by the river
We walked
The muddy path.

Our feet
Squished, squished, squished
Like amphibians.

An upriver boom
Slowly chased a yellow tug
To a sawmill somewhere.

A fishboat
Named Sea Imp
Soon followed,
Much faster,
Creating a series of crashes
On the river's rocky bank.

Not working
Is not
So bad.

2 comments:

Laila Yuile said...

You are so poetic.
Although I write poetry as well, never could I describe not working the way you do. Being a writer,money comes in fits and starts - more fits than starts. For me there is no mat leave, no EI, no safety belt. If I'm having a "mental health day" or hungover, or whatever, I always have to suck it up.
Having been born into a forestry family from PG,I know the lay-offs, the shut-downs that come with it. But you, you make it almost sound bearable, even enviable. Thank you for bringing that lightness to my day.
Ok,that sounds so corny, but whatever. I think you know what I mean.

VancityAllie said...

Some days I envy those not working.