From Hopewell To Halifax
A poem by Ron. Lavalette

From Hopewell To Halifax  

I have strolled on the seafloor
at the Bay of Fundy, wandered  
among The Hopewell Rocks, 
occasionally flattening myself 
into their low-tide crevices 
like an ancient sailor’s skeleton 
watching the tides come and go 
to strip and bury the shoreline. 

And I’ve seen their murky furrows 
vanish and reappear and 
vanish and reappear again 
so many times  
I’ve come to believe that 
nothing ever vanishes, 
that all things vanished  
always reappear and  
always reappear again, 
always the same 
but different. 

But today, instead  
(but somehow again)  
I’m hundreds of miles away 
and it’s bumper to bumper
in downtown Halifax, 
and I’m waiting behind the bus 
on University Avenue, 
waiting for the light to change, 
for the pedestrians to crosswalk,  
for the bus to move 
in and out of traffic 
like the Bay of Fundy tides 
always coming and going, 
creating a tidal flow of humanity 
appearing and reappearing 
but always the same 
the same.  

About the Author:

Ron. Lavalette lives on the Canadian border in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. His debut chapbook, Fallen Away, from Finishing Line Press, is now available at all standard outlets. In addition, more than 400 of his creations (poetry and short prose) have appeared in journals, reviews, and anthologies ranging alphabetically from the Anthology of New England Poets through the World Haiku Review.  A reasonable sample of his published work can be viewed at EGGS OVER TOKYO: http://eggsovertokyo.blogspot.com

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