LAKE SUPERIOR COAST: TRAIN WINDOW East of the port, the gaunt euclidean town At the edge of the prairie sky, at the venturous end Of the sea’s last traffic with the climbing land – You come to hills. The spruce and rock steep down To the mountain beach. Inlet and channel and reef Return, in the slow dance of the land’s turning; Shadowed and clear and dark in the desolate raining Of lost and shadowy light, and the lost brief Moment; flashed and repeated in the drumming wheels Repeat…repeat…repeat; the flashing earth Streams in its rhythm; and the moment’s breath Is time’s deliberate breath. The wheeling hills Drift with its tide…The hills and the quilted flock Of the sky, and a gull, remotely flying And stilled in flight… Time, and the granite flowing Of stonegrey water and precambrian rock.
	© Harry Bruce, All Rights Reserved