Neil Meili. He’s a good guy and well-known south of the border on the cowboy poetry circuit. The following nostalgic poem, typical of Neil’s subject matter and style, is from his Fishing Old Wives Lake anthology.
Grandma Brander
When we moved to Mossbank I was twelve
Mother would sometimes stop us all from
playing, and send us over to visit her mother
in her little house on the south side of town
We never really knew what to say to her
or she to us, and I never really, until now
thought about whose shyness set that pace
She was a nice enough lady, and gave us cookies
and she had diabetes
and a leg that wasn’t there anymore
She may have had grand stories to tell
about her family and childhood in England
and Ontario, and her brother lost at sea
and tough times and good times in the West
and our grandfather whom we’d never met
What was he like? Were we like him?
Would we want to be?
These things would have been a leap
into total honesty
it was a leap we never took
We spent the afternoons in leaps
more comfortable to us all
small colored marbles
over small colored marbles
in the inscrutability of Chinese Checkers