A sacred place if ever
there was one.
The perfume of lilacs
hanging purple
on the boughs.
The mallard couple
by the Arts bldg stream
Two great orange fish
waiting for donations
at the Humanities’ pond.
There is much here that
speaks to soul and
whatever’s left of
Inner Child.
Returning to the van
I walk on one side of
Saskatchewan Drive
while joggers stream by
on the other
their cheer and laughs
limited or forced pleasantries,
more like performances
than anything else.
My side has only a
threatening gander
hissing as I saunter by
and Alberta School of Business
flags above, proclaiming
a hundred years of excellence
relevance and impact,
though none for me.
There is a democracy
to death and No,
Warren Buffet has
little to do with this
solitude, cannot buy
one extra minute of life,
has zero relevance to
this dream, my life and day
and all this to-die-for
subtle beauty.