On Poetics: what the soul has to say

 

This essay is in the December issue of The Artisanal Writer; you have to log in, free of charge, to visit the site, or just read it here. 

The Artisanal Writer On Poetics: what the soul  has to say Artisanal Writer Dec 1 by Stephen Morrissey Soul is what makes us more than a pile of chemicals and a tangle of neurons; soul is that essence of consciousness that enables us to know ourselves and our world, to recognize what is unique in us as individuals and what each one of us shares with the immense totality of which we are a part.                 –June Singer,                 Boundaries of the Soul (1994), p. xi 1 No poetics should ignore the place of psyche or soul in writing poetry, this is because poetry is the voice of the soul. Of course, some people don't believe the soul exists, they associate it with organized religion that they oppose as irrational and superstitious. We know what a soulless city looks like, it is sterile, plastic, glass, concrete, stainless steel, and lacking the human dimension, lacking the uniqueness of the individual. The soul made itself known in my life when I was a child, with dreams that changed my life and writing poetry that allowed me to be creative and express my inner being; how much less my life would have been without poetry. I believe that the soul is fundamental to poetry, going back to the "Epic of Gilgamesh", going back to the beginning of time and the first poem, and going forward to the next century and the next millennium; as long as the human spirit exists people will write poetry and the soul will express itself. For this reason, poetry will never die; it may become scarce, but it won't die. 2 "Break the line when you run out of breath", sd/ Charles Olson, but is this applicable to poets other than Olson and his cohort? Is breath so significant in writing poetry that it should be used to indicate line breaks? This may seem obscure but it is important, it has to do with how poems are written, how lines of poetry scan, and where lines end and other lines begin. It also affirms the importance of the human soul in poetry. Although in a different way than Walt Whitman, Olson follows Whitman in affirming the importance of the physical body; however, Whitman celebrated the human soul as much as he celebrated the body; in fact, it is Whitman's soul that is celebrating "the body electric", it is Whitman's soul that is celebrating the physical side of life. Other poets, Pound, Eliot, H.D., and Yeats, (there are too many others to list), affirm a more practical way of putting words on a page; free verse and traditional metrical verse don't place importance on breath indicating line breaks. Instead of Charles Olson's theory, in "Projective Verse", think of poems as transcriptions of the soul, and lines of poetry are patterns of thought, they are what the soul has to say: what the soul perceives, the poem says. With deference to Charles Olson, here is a different model for how poems are written; it pertains to the deep language of poetry: From the soul to the brain; from the brain to thought; from thought to the pen and the poem is written. 3 The vocabulary of the soul includes Jungian terms, it includes archetypes, synchronicity, the human shadow, anima/animus, individuation, and others; these are descriptions of how the soul manifests itself, not instructions on what to write. You have had an experience of the soul when you know something intuitively, or if you've fallen in love, or spent years writing poems, or had a synchronistic experience, or been moved by dreams— by a dream that changes one's life—or by a work of art or literature, by a movie or a play, or music; these experiences can change how we see ourselves and our world, they can change the direction of our life, they can deepen our understanding of life, they are a part of our journey, including what we do in the future, what we become, and who we are. 4 Whatever people around us may think, freedom is not negotiable, whether it is freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, or freedom to think whatever you want. No one can make art that is authentic to their vision and maintain their integrity as a poet if they live in fear of being censored; censorship and creative expression are mutually exclusive. There is state censorship and censorship by social media, which is cancel culture, and we also censor ourselves; self-censorship comes from within us while other types of censorship come from outside of us, but both are pernicious and dangerous to creativity and free expression. No poet can accept silence imposed by cancel culture or state censorship, it would be soul suicide to do so. We don't live in what Keats described as a "vale of soul making" just to pander to people who are ignorant, or intolerant, or bullies. My rule is: write exactly what I feel hesitant about writing, what I want to keep silent about, what I want to censor; that's where poetry lies, it is found in the shadow of consciousness. No matter how offensive something may seem to be, freedom of speech is essential to the arts and to democracy, it is more important than catering to someone's sensibility, or giving in to the fear of being attacked by them, verbally or in print, or their demand for censorship and the denial of freedom that has been hard won over many centuries. When a poet sides with those who would censor the writing and statements of others, that poet has joined the gang of repressors, that poet has denied poetry and the work of being a poet. In this life there is always somebody who wants to impose what they think is best for everybody else, who wants to close down a conversation, ban works of art, and censor what people are saying. But poetry isn't written to make anyone happy or safe; the soul doesn't care if you are happy or not, the soul cares about the truth of your existence. 5 I began writing poems when I was young and I've described this as the beginning of my journey as a poet. "All my heroes were poets" writes Ken Norris, as poets were also my heroes: including Allen Ginsberg, Walt Whitman, Matthew Arnold, William Blake, John Keats, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Chaucer; and in my own country, my poet heroes are the Confederation Poets, the McGill Group of poets, Louis Dudek, Irving Layton, Al Purdy, Alden Nowlan, and others. A young poet writes for the love of writing poems and, if the poet is lucky, the soul appears, the soul is awakened; a new maturity and intelligence in the writing is the appearance of the soul's presence in the poet's work. The nature of psyche, which is a synonym for soul, is to find meaning and wholeness in life; and where is love? Love is in every expression of the soul, every poem, every insight, every action coming from the soul's awakening; the soul has a propensity for individuation; the soul gives joy to life; the soul follows the bright star of love; the soul lights the darkness surrounding us. Author Bio Montreal-born poet Stephen Morrissey is the author of twelve books, including poetry and literary criticism. He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree, Honours in English with Distinction, from Sir George Williams University in 1973. In 1976 he graduated with a Master of Arts degree in English Literature from McGill University. In the 1970s Morrissey was associated with the Vehicule Poets. The Stephen Morrissey Fonds, 1963 – 2014, are housed at Rare Books and Special Collections of the McLennan Library at McGill University. Stephen Morrissey married poet Carolyn Zonailo in 1995. Original: First published at https://artisanalwriter.com/2022/12/01/on-poetics/, 01 December 2022: On Poetics Date: December 1, 2022Author: Artisanal Writer by Stephen Morrissey Also available as a podcast. To listen on Spotify click here. "Soul is what makes us more than a pile of chemicals and a tangle of neurons; soul is that essence of consciousness that enables us to know ourselves and our world, to recognize what is unique in us as individuals and what each one of us shares with the immense totality of which we are a part." –June Singer, Boundaries of the Soul (1994), p. xi 1 No poetics should ignore the place of psyche or soul in writing poetry, this is because poetry is the voice of the soul. Of course, some people don't believe the soul exists, they associate it with organized religion that they oppose as irrational and superstitious. We know what a soulless city looks like, it is sterile, plastic, glass, concrete, stainless steel, and lacking the human dimension, lacking the uniqueness of the individual. The soul made itself known in my life when I was a child, with dreams that changed my life and writing poetry that allowed me to be creative and express my inner being; how much less my life would have been without poetry. I believe that the soul is fundamental to poetry, going back to the "Epic of Gilgamesh", going back to the beginning of time and the first poem, and going forward to the next century and the next millennium; as long as the human spirit exists people will write poetry and the soul will express itself. For this reason, poetry will never die; it may become scarce, but it won't die. 2 "Break the line when you run out of breath", sd/ Charles Olson, but is this applicable to poets other than Olson and his cohort? Is breath so significant in writing poetry that it should be used to indicate line breaks? This may seem obscure but it is important, it has to do with how poems are written, how lines of poetry scan, and where lines end and other lines begin. It also affirms the importance of the human soul in poetry. Although in a different way than Walt Whitman, Olson follows Whitman in affirming the importance of the physical body; however, Whitman celebrated the human soul as much as he celebrated the body; in fact, it is Whitman's soul that is celebrating "the body electric", it is Whitman's soul that is celebrating the physical side of life. Other poets, Pound, Eliot, H.D., and Yeats, (there are too many others to list), affirm a more practical way of putting words on a page; free verse and traditional metrical verse don't place importance on breath indicating line breaks. Instead of Charles Olson's theory, in "Projective Verse", think of poems as transcriptions of the soul, and lines of poetry are patterns of thought, they are what the soul has to say: what the soul perceives, the poem says. With deference to Charles Olson, here is a different model for how poems are written; it pertains to the deep language of poetry: From the soul to the brain; from the brain to thought; from thought to the pen and the poem is written. 3 The vocabulary of the soul includes Jungian terms, it includes archetypes, synchronicity, the human shadow, anima/animus, individuation, and others; these are descriptions of how the soul manifests itself, not instructions on what to write. You have had an experience of the soul when you know something intuitively, or if you've fallen in love, or spent years writing poems, or had a synchronistic experience, or been moved by dreams— by a dream that changes one's life—or by a work of art or literature, by a movie or a play, or music; these experiences can change how we see ourselves and our world, they can change the direction of our life, they can deepen our understanding of life, they are a part of our journey, including what we do in the future, what we become, and who we are. 4 Whatever people around us may think, freedom is not negotiable, whether it is freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, or freedom to think whatever you want. No one can make art that is authentic to their vision and maintain their integrity as a poet if they live in fear of being censored; censorship and creative expression are mutually exclusive. There is state censorship and censorship by social media, which is cancel culture, and we also censor ourselves; self-censorship comes from within us while other types of censorship come from outside of us, but both are pernicious and dangerous to creativity and free expression. No poet can accept silence imposed by cancel culture or state censorship, it would be soul suicide to do so. We don't live in what Keats described as a "vale of soul making" just to pander to people who are ignorant, or intolerant, or bullies. My rule is: write exactly what I feel hesitant about writing, what I want to keep silent about, what I want to censor; that's where poetry lies, it is found in the shadow of consciousness. No matter how offensive something may seem to be, freedom of speech is essential to the arts and to democracy, it is more important than catering to someone's sensibility, or giving in to the fear of being attacked by them, verbally or in print, or their demand for censorship and the denial of freedom that has been hard won over many centuries. When a poet sides with those who would censor the writing and statements of others, that poet has joined the gang of repressors, that poet has denied poetry and the work of being a poet. In this life there is always somebody who wants to impose what they think is best for everybody else, who wants to close down a conversation, ban works of art, and censor what people are saying. But poetry isn't written to make anyone happy or safe; the soul doesn't care if you are happy or not, the soul cares about the truth of your existence. 5 I began writing poems when I was young and I've described this as the beginning of my journey as a poet. "All my heroes were poets" writes Ken Norris, as poets were also my heroes: including Allen Ginsberg, Walt Whitman, Matthew Arnold, William Blake, John Keats, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Chaucer; and in my own country, my poet heroes are the Confederation Poets, the McGill Group of poets, Louis Dudek, Irving Layton, Al Purdy, Alden Nowlan, and others. A young poet writes for the love of writing poems and, if the poet is lucky, the soul appears, the soul is awakened; a new maturity and intelligence in the writing is the appearance of the soul's presence in the poet's work. The nature of psyche, which is a synonym for soul, is to find meaning and wholeness in life; and where is love? Love is in every expression of the soul, every poem, every insight, every action coming from the soul's awakening; the soul has a propensity for individuation; the soul gives joy to life; the soul follows the bright star of love; the soul lights the darkness surrounding us. Author Bio Montreal-born poet Stephen Morrissey is the author of twelve books, including poetry and literary criticism. He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree, Honours in English with Distinction, from Sir George Williams University in 1973. In 1976 he graduated with a Master of Arts degree in English Literature from McGill University. In the 1970s Morrissey was associated with the Vehicule Poets. The Stephen Morrissey Fonds, 1963 – 2014, are housed at Rare Books and Special Collections of the McLennan Library at McGill University. Stephen Morrissey married poet Carolyn Zonailo in 1995.

Last day of November

Winter blows in soon, snow, ice, and misery. Many gardeners have done something to prepare their garden for next spring, including me. But for many others it's the minimum and that will have to be enough when you factor in a disinclination to even be outside in this cold weather (and winter hasn't even begun). I've just been on a short walk and I guess I'm not much of a Canadian anymore, winter fills me with dread. 

Just a short aside; one of the best things I've done is have these fences enclose parts of the garden. The enclosed feeling, contained, and privacy makes the garden even more inviting to sit back there even, I am hoping, when it's cold.

Photo taken on 30 November after a second pruning of these trees this month.

A neighbour had this row of trees pruned, branches and some boughs have been removed; 
my hope is that this will give me more sunlight next year.

Some rose bushes have been wrapped in burlap while this area has a layer of 
leaves and burlap covering it.

Any gardener will tell you of the advantages of mulching; don't discard last fall's leaves, rake
them onto your flower beds; in the early spring you'll see new growth where you raked your leaves.

A year ago I raked this area, I cleaned out dead plants, leaves, and ended up with the soil and a few
remaining plants. What a mistake that was . . . the tall bee balm and flowers, miniature irises, and
even the raspberry canes failed to perform as they had the previous summer. This fall I have left
things as they are and we'll see what grows . . .

The end of November and these flowers, in a hanging pot, are all that is left in the garden despite
the cold and snow we've already had and that subsequently melted . . .

Deletions from an Introduction for a Selected Poems

 

Deletions:

3.  You don’t become a poet expecting to be liked for everything you write, or even for some of what you write. Why do people become poets? It is simple: people become poets because they are called to this work; writing poetry is an act of transcription, writing down what is given to you and, most importantly, writing poetry is to feel that truth is so important that it must be adhered to. This is why freedom of speech is so important; it is essential if literature is to have any meaning or relevance for either the poet or the reader.

4. Poetry isn't antiseptic, it's passion for life. Poetry is love and death and tears of joy and tears of sorrow. It's messy, it's stuff we don't want to talk about, it's betrayal and jealousy, it's love and sex and tenderness and grief and regret and awe and divine inspiration; it's the shadow falling across one's life. Poetry is nothing if not passionate; passion, not the intellect, not fashion, not popularity, not what other people are doing, defines poetry.

5.  In The Green Archetypal Field of Poetry (2022), I described how one's life can be reconfigured to something totally different from what one expected in life; I described this as the Great Reconfiguration. When I was six years old and my father died my old life became redundant, everything changed; I was one person and then I became someone else. His death has preoccupied much of my life, his passing reconfigured my life; this began the relentless journey of grief and understanding, love and loss, that I've been on, and trying to understand this existence and expressing it in poems.

6. To write not parts of a life but a whole life, that is what I have tried to do; it is an impossible task and can be attempted only if one refers to archetypes and a mythological approach to experience as a way to communicate this information. The poet's body of work is all of a piece, a single entity; it's a life that is transformed by poetry, it's the soul speaking through the poet. For John Keats life was a vale of soul-making, not a vale of tears; this was always the direction of my writing, my concern has always been with soul-making and I expressed this in my poems.

 

Change vs. staying the same

 

I want to preface this by saying that I rarely write about politics although it is a lifelong discussion, but it is always a subtext to what is important here and that is poetry and writing about poetics. So, here is something decrying the loss of a bit more of our heritage, being critical of the metric system that was imposed on us, and it is probably tilting at windmills . . .

After this, it's mostly back to poetry and poetics, gardening and photographs, life and love, and the politicians can do what they do best, which is to screw the public and call it true love. 

1.

Whatever we change, we change at the loss of something else, and not every change is for the better. Some things we change, what we may have originally considered reforms, end up making life worse, or more complicated, or destroy institutions that have supported society for centuries. Not much thought is given to how change will affect us, what we are giving up, what we are replacing, or what we have lost. We are a society that believes in change for its own sake, that everything new is better than what is old, and people cheer for change as though all change is wonderful. What people are cheering for now may be what people will regret in the future.

The reason we adopted the metric system is that it was presumed it would make us more economically competitive with other nations, for instance the European Union. Of course, the young accept the metric system, it's all they have ever known for measuring and weighing things, and it is taught in schools. Others among us have never wholeheartedly accepted metrification; fruit and vegetables in grocery stores are weighed in both metric and the imperial system, in ounces and pounds, and measurement for building construction material is still in the imperial system, we buy a sheet of plywood that is eight feet by four feet, a two by four is measured in inches, and so on. Measure twice, cut once, is the carpenter's rule; and it is done in inches and feet.

Metrification meant giving up an aspect of our both collective inheritance and the use of words that pertain to measurement. But we didn't care, we accepted something that displaced centuries of our history, our way of life, and our language. Metrification moved us further from what is specific and historical, the Avoirdupois system, and into what was conceived in conferences and has very little connection to the everyday life of everyday people.  My concern here is not which is the better system of weights and measurement, it the loss of language, history, and our way of life; of course, we can't go back, that will never happen. 

The Imperial system is derived from the Avoirdupois system which originated eight hundred years ago, certain words are from Old English, the Romans, and earlier civilizations. An "inch" is 1/36th of a yard, from the Old English "ince" or "ynce"', and it is 1/12th of a foot. A "foot" is from the Old English, it is a linear measurement of a man's foot measured as twelve inches. A "yard" is the length of a man's belt but also calculated by King Henry I as the distance from his nose to the thumb of his outstretched hand, it is 36 inches in length. While a "furlong", a word still used in horse racing, is the length of the average plowed furor, it is 660 feet long. A "mile" is from the Romans and calculated as 5,280 feet; a "country mile" refers to travelling over difficult terrain over a long distance since it is not a straight line.

Meanwhile, the metric system dates back to around the time of the French Revolution, to 1795 and 1799, replacing other systems of measurement. The metre was determined by dimensions of the Earth; the kilogram or unit of mass was based on the volume of the litre. It was not long before France and then the rest of Europe had adopted the metric system. This system of measurement is a child of conferences, both the Treaty of the Metre (1875) and the Conférence générale des poids et mesures continued to invent and increase divisions of the material world according to the metric system.

If our previous system of measurement is ancestral and originated in a pre-industrial rural society, then the metric system is fairly recent, originating in cities, by intellectuals and academics, and based in measurement for science, business, and urban dwellers; it is not a system of measurement with a relationship with the natural world, with the earth, or with anything to do with forests, rivers, wild life, oceans, fish, coast lines, farming, small towns, hunting, and so on. Perhaps most urban dwellers don't care about forests, rivers, wild life, oceans, fish, coast lines, farming, small towns, hunting, and so on. The metric system does not spring from the earth that we walk on or from our ancestors or a belief in the importance of place or where we live; its origin is an abstract invented system of measurement.

How do we define what it means to be a human being and does this definition include a soul? The soul does not resonate to the metric system, the soul demands specificity, place, tradition, and history; the soul includes forests, rivers, wild life, oceans, fish, coast lines, farming, small towns, hunting, and so on. The metric system was imposed on us as so much else has been imposed on us; what is being imposed on us moves us away from tradition, our ancestors, and the ground on which we walk.  The metric system does not spring from place, or from our ancestral and historical place.  

Of course, after the fact this refers to what one becomes familiar with, and you can become used to anything. Metric displaced pounds, ounces, and Fahrenheit, it displaced what our ancestors knew and lived with, and it displaced words that were used every day by average people going about their lives. We can't go back to the old system but we should remember that change is not always for the best, that what changes displaces what we already have, and in retrospect what we already have may not be all that bad. Today's society is beginning to look very different from what we had, and were happy with, even just five years ago. I am not saying that change is not needed in society, but change and the direction in which our society is now headed is not a place some of us want to go, it looks to be dominated by the State, by globalism, by the end of the family unit, and the end of our way of life. So, this is about a symptom, metrification, and no doubt it seem ridiculous, but it is a symptom of a future that is already happening. 

"Mending Walls" by Robert Frost

 

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:

I have come after them and made repair

Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance:

‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

Oh, just another kind of out-door game,

One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,

But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather

He said it for himself. I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

He will not go behind his father's saying,

And he likes having thought of it so well

He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

"5 Poets Breaking into Song"

I really enjoyed, more than enjoyed! last night's "5 Poets Breaking into Song" (this is the link to a video of the reading), an event held in Toronto. George Elliott Clarke included one of my poems, commissioned by George and set to music and performed by James Rolfe, and this can be found at 1:37:00. Many thanks to George and James and everyone else involved in this event!

The garden's new fences

A few weeks ago I had fairly extensive landscaping done at our home, which included new fences for the garden. The old, collapsing, wooden fence that we had by the side of the house may have been countryish and maybe it had another ten years before it would have collapsed, but it needed to be replaced. There was another fence, in the back of the garden, and it had completely collapsed; it may have been sixty years old. 

Our Cape Cod Cottage, and there are many of them in this neighbourhood, were built in 1950, after the War, for returning veterans; they housed a family of four people, they are single family dwellings, they have a backyard, and the same design of house was constructed in many parts of Canada. Cape Cod Cottages are remarkably well constructed and quiet inside, if quiet is as important to you as it is for me. Only seventy-five years ago this area of Montreal was all farmers' fields, there were also apple orchards, and it was the country; that is all gone now and few people either remember how it was or know anything about the history of this area. 

There is one thing most old people would agree on and that is to prepare for the future. We know the future we don't want but it takes some effort to avoid it; we want to stay independent and to do this requires at least basic ambulatory health and some mental acuity; fortunately, the Quebec government seems to be working to keep old people in their homes for as long as possible, they pay to have someone visit the elderly everyday, and this is a lot cheaper, and better for the elderly, than having these old people institutionalized. We saw what institutionalized care for old people is like, it's something we all want to avoid, among other things it was also a breeding ground for Covid-19. So, the message is, Prepare now! That is one reason I had these fences built, so I can have a nice environment now and not worry about the place falling apart when I'm older and not able to look after it.

These new six foot fences may seem extreme, but they also make the garden feel private and enclosed. I told someone when the fences were being constructed that I didn't want the Berlin Wall and then I realized they hadn't heard of the Berlin Wall; ah, the young . . . I suspect that fences are what a garden needs, to be enclosed for privacy; I am also reminded of one of the greatest children's novels, The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson Burnett, well worth reading by yourself or to a child.  Fences enclose the garden and make it feel private, like a room, a place of flowers, birds, and being a little closer to nature, be sure to add a few chairs so you can sit for a while, and enjoy the garden you have created,  

"The Snow Man" by Wallace Stevens

 

One must have a mind of winter

To regard the frost and the boughs

Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time

To behold the junipers shagged with ice,

The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think

Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land

Full of the same wind

That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

The garden under snow

Yesterday's snow will probably melt, it's 0 C., moving between +1 and -1; just think, ten days ago it was +20 C. No wonder we're obsessed with the weather; before bed we listen to the weather report, then we'll know what kind of day tomorrow will be; upon waking we listen to the weather report, has it changed since last night? Where I live, so much of daily life depends on the weather.

You ask if I like snow and winter? No, I don't. But we are stoics here in Canada, we live with it, we say "You get what you get."

Here is the garden under snow.

"My November Guest" by Robert Frost

 

My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so rarely sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

The hidden trail in November

There are never many people on the hidden trail, perhaps one or two dog walkers, sometimes no one is there but me. Usually I am alone. We're moving along to mid-November and December and the inevitable, unwanted, winter months that follow; one faces them with a certain dread. What will winter be like this year? The forecast for eastern Canada has changed from more snow and colder than ever to quite mild, but our "mild" is most people's cold, long, winter. And that is the problem with winter here in Montreal, it's just too long; a month of winter, as they have in Vancouver, would be enough for most of us, but our winter stretches on from January (the coldest month of the year) to February (a short month so that is our consolation) to March (sunlight lasts longer but it is still very cold) to April (when April showers can be a last snowfall) to May (getting better). Even Toronto has one month less of winter than we do and the rest of their winter is milder than ours. Victoria has no winter, just more rain. Even Burlington, Vermont, just south of us has a milder winter than we do. And our winter can begin in early December, not all of us want a white Christmas, I prefer a green Christmas and an unlikely green January . . . well, that never happens. The thing is to get outside and walk, and it doesn't matter where you walk as long as you get some exercise, even fresh air is optional, we need to walk because it releases positive hormones and gives us a sense of optimism. Personally, I like the hidden trail but, all in all, I like walking anywhere; I like seeing people and their homes, I like walking by stores and restaurants, I even like cars shooting passed me, I like life and people. The hidden trail isn't for everyday walking, for daily walking I prefer the streets and places that are not special to anyone but to me.