Welcome to Poetic Licence 鈥� a weekly poetry forum, hosted by us, featuring words by local poets. This week? Leslee Silverman.
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When The Tourists Have Gone
The Tai Chi people are back
now that the tourists are gone!
I can hardly contain my excitement.
The ancient man with the unusually short legs
stands at the very edge of the sea again.
Every bird, duck and cormorant,
Every one of us,
is going about his or her
morning business, investigating
what was left by the high tide
last night under the moon,
wobbly and bloated from too many insincere cruise passenger compliments.
I am listening in my neighborhood.
The real sounds are creeping back
as the crows and trees catch-up on gossip: 鈥淭hose damn herons and their monopolies.
Half the time, they aren鈥檛 even occupying their nests, so where鈥檚 the foreign ownership laws
when you need them, eh ? Caw. Caw. Caw?鈥�
I鈥檝e cleared my mind so I can concentrate on the seeing
instead of the being seen of the summer tourist months.
I live in a neighbourhood once more,
and can see the figures leaning against walls,
or lying on the street as solidly as a Group of Seven painting.
Oh look, there she is!
The Russian woman in the purple cardigan going to the Orthodox Church.
Well, it has been converted
to a condo containing a church but nonetheless,
she is back, bless her,
going to church, at the same time as the old man is doing tai chi on the beach.
I am mystically enthusiastic about these Adams and Eves,
who remind us to pray for the everyday
in our inadequate short legs and old fashioned sweaters.
Remind us,
To give thanks for the ordinary consolations,
like the sea, like the trees,
like a West End neighbour with whom to share your small human sorrows on an autumn day,
when all the tourists are gone away.
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Leslee Silverman is a proud West Ender and a Governor General Laureate. She is currently with SFU鈥檚 Writer鈥檚 Studio.
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