1.
Amid roaring trucks, giraffe-neck cranes,
all-day hammering, bicycle lanes,
curbside cafés where waiters pour wine
and teenagers hunch over takeout,
a hoarse screech.
There! Way up there!
Two hawks.
Hey! Two more!
High in the haze, spiralling.
Eight beats, two apiece.
Gone.
2.
Cued for carbohydrate
the eye craves more
—and, lo!
Towers of steel part to reveal
puffs of purest white,
cumulus billows, cumulus pillows
transfiguration lit.
3.
Past a building site with ground scraped bare,
jets overhead churning worn air,
curb waiters filling more glasses with wine,
hydro trucks parked on the pavement.
A quadrangle of sneezeweed, woman-tall,
and grey-headed coneflower bustling with bees.
Bees!
Never mind the monarchs.
Whoever saw so many urban bees, foraging, fuzzing?
Winged giants with black rumps and bumpers of pollen.
Bumblebees savouring, hovering.
Honey bees with long striped bellies.
Wee bees.
Humming in tune with traffic.
[Stanza break]
4.
Farther up Yonge Street
on the sidewalk at Jackes Avenue,
a scatter of baby dills,
shattered glass.
