Urban Scene

As I was on a southbound streetcar at 10:30 one morning

the sun crept over the high-rise obstacles

and illuminated every tree in every block

turning black branches to radiance

each twig dipped in diamond dust for the day or,

if diamonds are too extravagant,

dunked into a vat of powdered Swarowsky crystals.

The trees shone, clear and brilliant

for us drab and dreary streetcar passengers

heading to Queen Street West

with its grey skies, grey pavements,

grey passers-by in worn black coats

but how lucky we were

those of us who saw the gleaming trees

to counter the grey

with that bright memory.

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
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