untitled poem by Bob MacKenzie Some times of night the world seems far away So like a life we dream to have some day, While all around the mists obscure and hide The world of man from man who would reside, A spiral snail aloof among the dew Of high rise grass and wait the reaper's shoe That ends the day to leave behind crushed shell, 'Though where the snail has gone no one can tell. And yet does not this snail become the mist About a dream another world has kissed With love and made by love to be its own So that again the sower's seed is sown, This time no reaper waiting to receive Nor shell aspiral needed to deceive. published: The Tower, 1970 Brandstead Press, 1972 Janus & SCTH, 1973 Pine's the Canadian Tree [anthology], 1974 broadcast: Creative Minds television program [read on cable television arts show, St. Catherines, Ontario, week of April 10, 1972] |