The Coniferous Forests of Newfoundland
Elsie Sheppard
In the dark shadows of ancient trees permanently bent to the wind,
I relish in their charm.
Though not tall or too overbearing, beneath them,
It is dark—a night like quality.
Switching off the light in my mind,
I find clarity.
A carpet of burnt orange and brown
Cover the stoney ground.
It’s hard to imagine anything could grow here;
Let alone a forest flourishing.
To me, these forests are home.
An inexplicable comfort.
A world separate from the rest.
The darkness enlightens me.
But in the darkness of this wood,
Unimaginable secrets and dangers hide.
Off the beaten path, so many have trekked,
Found frozen and lifeless
Or never at all.
The blackened corners of these forests
Like permanent night without stars,
Somehow still smell like Christmas, warm evenings,
Crisp mornings,
And cloudy skies.
Perhaps that’s why they’re so dangerous.
They seem so inviting.
They far too quickly become unfamiliar,
And swallow you up before you even realize
You do not know where you are.
As the snow falls and the day becomes colder,
The canopy of the forest shields you from the world.
Preparing to suck you in, and keep you forever.
All the Difference
My mom can pick us up.
“Oh really, she is free?”
She can also make us lunch.
“My mom doesn’t do that for me.”
My mom can take us to the mall
And wait for us while we shop.
It’s okay if you missed your bus,
My mom can drive you from your stop.
We can sleepover at my house,
My parents are home all night.
“Next time we can sleep at mine,
My parents are just out tonight.”
My mom can bring our school project,
It will fit in the family van.
“My dad has a convertible,
So I am not sure if he can”.
My mom baked my a birthday cake,
It’s icing red, yellow, and green.
“For mine, my mom went to the grocery store
and picked out a tub of ice cream”.
My mom volunteered for the field trip,
Is your mom coming too?
“My mom can’t make this one,
She has a lot of other things to do.”
My mom is taking me to the library,
Has your mom taken you?
“We haven’t gone in a while,
My books are overdue”.
“I wish my mom was there for me,
Like yours is there for you.”
Grandfather’s Boat
The fresh water of Lake Ontario laps at my feet
As they hang over the bow.
The sun dances on the waves;
It warms my skin,
Contrasting the splash of the ice cold water.
Ebbing and flowing like a rocking chair
It's comforting, yet worrying.
Who knows what lies beneath this deep blue surface?
Eels, sharks, sea monsters,
My toes clench.
I look up to the sky
And think about the vast distance Of that great blue
And the bottom of this one.
White sails billow in the wind,
Like giant kites.
Everything here is so much bigger than I am.
Feeling small, I shrink inside my life jacket.
It’s nylon chafing my skin.
Like a bullet proof vest,
It protects me
from the unknown dangers of the water.
I look behind me
And see the massive land from which we departed.
An unrecognizable lump of earth tones and light.
Soon, we will loop around and make our journey home
And slowly watch it pull back into focus.
I hear my grandfather's voice beacon me from the cabin.
I raise my feet from the water,
Feeling the warmth of the deck.
He picks me up in his arms,
And I don’t feel so tiny anymore.
