Waving Farewell to a Stranger

winter-dead trees
standing sentinel
over the grey-green
serpent of the Saskatchewan
as she snakes her way
between brown mud banks
past the sandbar
between geometric traffic ribbons
shrouded in freezing mist
fog settling like
a somber caress
magpies glide, uneasy shadows
before the falling ghost of the afternoon

there is ice
along the shoreline
both remnant and portent
whether the skies
sing
before December or not

a cold time
to be leaving
(je te manquerai)

though the hotel lobby is lush
with the greens and burgundies
of the impending season
it all seems remote somehow
I do not feel enfolded
and the feast
will be held without me

time's mantle is torn
in a remote unlikely place
how much, sometimes
I would like to crawl inside
and become lost
in the folds
of its lining

city of mystics
pagan shops
concrete
and glass pyramid spires
on the cusp
of the northern plains

I cannot turn back
as I leave you
it isn't a fear
of salt pillars
but an impenetrable
veil that has dropped
slung night-high
to obscure my eyes

and I am raining
as I fly from your arms
grief which will die
as crystal notes
dropped on your waters