My Haldimand

This is an enchanting place, a captivating landscape.
Where eagles soar and owl sounds fill the night air.
This is a healing place, an enriching place,
Where hawks teach their young to hunt and herons stalk fish on river banks.

But soon, forty-two storey grinding eyesores.
Red strobes filling the night sky.

Hush, Hush, Hush (don’t tell your neighbours)

This is a nurturing place, a meditation place.
Where bats and dragonflies gather mosquitoes at dusk and dance their graceful reel.
This is resting place, a gathering place.
Where monarch butterflies feast on milkweed and gain strength before flight.

But soon, slicing, dicing, killing.
Blood on the fields

Hush, Hush, Hush, (don’t speak of it)

This is a place to throw off the cares of the week.
A place for hammocks and splashing water.
A family place and a place to retire.
To pitch a tent, sleep under the stars.

But soon, vibration, headache, heartache.
Twenty-four seven.

Hush. Hush. Hush (shhhh)

This was a neighborly place, a kind place.
Where neighbors shared and helped each other.
But now, the bitterness of helpless rage and loss.
What a shame.

Pat Morris, Dunnville