The red maple.

In between
two red shores
that might one day meet,
on a white, rafting river
there sails a leaf,
and it chooses neither
one side over the other;

for it itself
is the very centre
of everything held dear.

This reliable leaf,
weathering all,
is there for all to see
on the wilder rapids,
yet it keeps its course,
steering within, and along
to each of our dreams.

To be sought and found,
it will sail forever
afloat like a certainty.

This red maple,
here, on the Great Lakes,
or breathed at the top of hills,
fished from the loops
of meandering rivers,
or to be caught as it flies
in the woods and forests
walked within our hearts.


Canadian flag – I think the red flanks could be the two banks of a river,
with the leaf floating in between. So, when the flag ripples in the wind,
the river is alive. It then flows.


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