POEMS BYJANICE NOTLAND

CONTENTS

IN PRAISE OF

2 Swirl Of Finches 3 Alive 4 Artisan 5 Cedar Tree 7 Daily Breath 9 Diminishing Light

THE WILD WITHIN

14 Cherry Tree 15 Constellations 16 Dreams Laid Down 17 The Gift 18 Stars 19 Something 20 Longing

LOVE AND BEYOND

24 An Ocean 25 Change 26 Ember 27 Love Grows 28 Love Is Funky 29 Linda’s Song 31 Exhale 32 what’s with The Onions? 34 Your Own Creation 36 Endless Night

TROUBLES

40 A Sharing 42 Abuse 43 Angel 45 Child Of Mine 46 Help 48 I Miss Those Days 49 Penetrable 50 The Best Of Days 54 we All Fall Down 55 Giving Hope

A BIT OF WHIMSY

58 Fuchsia 59 If Nothing Else 60 Tongue In … 61 Silhouette 63 Tangled wood 64 waiting 65 wind Musician 66 Ode To Unseen Sunrises

NATURE’S REFLECTION

70 Creek 73 The Look Of Cold 74 Between Seasons 75 Dazzle 76 Bones

77 water Diamonds 79 A Forest Full 82 An Awakening 83 Finding Focus 84 Ghosts 85 Grove Of Birch Trees 86 How Much

EVERYTHING

90 Animal Friend 91 Black Cub 93 robins 95 Crow 96 Village Home 97 Night Noise 99 Adorned 100 Beneath The Snow 102 Crow Politics 103 October Flight

SORROW

106 Another Life 107 Drum 108 He was A Man 110 The way It went 111 A Dying 113 Through The Spaces 114 Letters Not written 115 Never Totally Gone 116 Mountain Man 118 Phone Call 119 wishing On A Feather 122 Sifting winds

TRANSFORMATION

126 Many roads 127 Grey 129 Gateway 130 May She rest In Peace 132 The Forgetting 133 Not Drowning 134 Home 135 Streams Of Heaven 136 Visitation 138 Keep Looking

THE UNKNOWN

142 Meeting 144 If we really Knew 145 Lost Tribe 146 Crying Good 147 Old Man 148 Parting 149 Joy

1

IN PRAISE OF

In these poems I experience such a sense of awe at the blessings bestowed upon us in the form of the living world. In seeking to

engage with the greater sphere of my soul, words feel inadequate in the presence of such mystery.

Yet applying language provides a movement towards that which is constantly drawing my attention away from the mundane and ordinary, and for the moment at least, I am free from the distorted thought forms of my mind and am able to experience what is, di-rectly.

Those moments are liberating and are what keep me flowing even within the confines of my human body.

2

SWIRL OF FINCHES

A swirl of finches roller coaster

through thinning branchesatop a cedar,

blessing with a flourishas deft as a wand.

Displacing handfuls of snowthey fall needles

like miniature loggerslaying bare new seeds.

Diving in tandem,folding back in unison,

carving off snowheavy in March,

fooled into thinking it was spring.

Listen now over thereanother distant sound;

a continuous buzz of a chainsaw,contrasting sharplythe silence of snowsealing up the land.

But oh these finches survive,know so muchrequire so little,

it renews my heartwith awe and joy.

3

ALIVE

I need these living foreststo feel my outstretched limbsmove majestically through air stacked softly in layers.

Trees speak, though silently so.I need to hear the music of the forestfor my voice to tuneto the sweetness of the wind,for my inflatable heart to swimin an ocean of steady joy.

Joy felt in hollows embedded deep inside a creek,breath of trees,lungs of the land,suspended in liquid forever,flowing fast to the welcoming sea.

4

ARTISAN

Autumn frost is due this morning.walking out my kitchen dooron grass made spongy,the cold north wind blown in.

Sky with pillowcases of cloudslay shadowy streaksupon crystal blades, erect in the cool awakening.

Suspended at the tip of a green leafa tiny ball of liquid hangs within the foliage of a lilac tree.It is as red and delicate as a blown glass appleforged in an artisan’s shop.

In a blaze of sunlightscarlet spins in and out of view—standing one inch out either wayI lose it.

A miracle it was seen in the first place;I wonder what else I haven’t seenright in front of my eyes every day.

5

CEDAR TREE

A cedar dripping with melt waterstands in luminous moundsof pure white snow.

Alone in an open field where fissured patterns line the snow,this cedar stops all who walk by.

In stillness dropletsglint in the sunlight.

On the other side of the roadsnow falls in a light syncopation on outstretched limbs in a forest thirsty for runoff.

Patches of exposed red dirt poke through a landscapethat has almost forgottenbare earth. Freely I walk these country roads highway of bear and moose,deer, bobcat and elk.

where today chickadees call brightly from the forest.

But how I walk is nothing compared to this cedar,upholding the worldone branch at a time.

6

Utterly present in its shoulderingof spring’s falling delugeto the great deep below.

Its steadfast roots, reaching to the bottom of the world.

7

DAILY BREATH

Again I awaken surrounded by trees,breath of boughs discernible even in stillness of form.

Have I nothing to say to this grace, no inflection no tone of wonder of what is living in these hills?

I see wind picking through leavesdrying and sorting;as a mother tends and dotes.

Mountain chickadees sound amidst distant chainsaws pushing upon the land, retooling rawness.

Earth hidden in change,yet in all ways unchanging behind bold configurations. I hear music outside my windowswimming in the creek.My lips dare not mimic — rather,find my mouth wide and gaping.

8

I try to catch the dew evaporating from sea to sky,transported back from the roof of the world.

Falling as sacrament fitting into breath;a taste of life descending fresh and wholly new.

9

DIMINISHING LIGHT

It happens just like that.A wind gathers unto itselfa flame of yellow leaves, to fan nature’s turning into winter’s dark night.

Leaves hang damp, sparse in late autumn;soon, a low melody will dream a new wayinto a blowing wind.

Heat stretches across the sky still tracking the sun,clamouring after warmth,seeking the dying light.

In late afternoon sunI shiver on my porch, hypnotized by a forest awash in deep purple. A rising globe of white breaches the ridge,then drops behind a rimof silver crusted trees.

A door closes.

10

Something otherworldlypervades the last luminous glare. A halo glistens in my yard clothing pearl bark of birch.

It happened just like that.winter gathered unto itselfa flame of yellow leaves.

150

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Janice Notland pours a wealth of life experience into her po-etry. Born in Calgary, Alberta, she has made her home in

metropolitan centres like Montreal and Vancouver, and smaller towns on British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast and in the Koote-nays. A former community and mental health care worker, she has settled in Kelowna, BC. Janice shares a love of the classics with her husband, musician Alan rinehart, and spends her lei-sure time taking in the beauty of the Okanagan Valley.