Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Pigeon

I

Strutting down the sidewalk

and not retreating from me.

Cocky pigeon.

II

Fleeing before the Number 1

bus.  Flap like mad pigeon!

you forgot

your bus pass.

III

Front yard invasion.

What is so interesting?

Pigeons confuse me.

IV

Six pigeons in a circle

on Brunswick Street.

Not a NSCAD student in sight

to film, paint, or sculpt

this confab of wings.

V

Pigeon in the rain.

I’ll share my umbrella.

VI

I miss pigeons when the snow comes.

VII

If they were an Airborne Division

we would cower before

the pigeons’ gray, purple,

and turquoise colour scheme.

VIII

Maybe we should charge them

rent if pigeons are going to be

our sidewalk roommates.

IX

Thanks for inviting yourself

to the barbeque, pigeon.

We’re cooking a distant

cousin of yours.

X

Who talks this much

about pigeons?

XI

Pigeon eyes are like

googly eyes pasted

on Paper-Mache birds.

It unnerves me.

XII

The industrial revolution

brought more than people

in to crowd the cities.

The pigeon nuclear family

is alive and well.

XIII

Thirteen pigeons outside

a coffee shop.

Lucky or unlucky?

Let’s wait

and see if they attack.

Three Limericks for Canadian Summers

The heat eats us up like the gas tank of a Hummer

And global warming seems like such a great big bummer.

We sweat and we toil,

Complain we will boil,

But come winter we’ll beg for the furnace of summer.

The suns fierce rays seem to be frying my brain

And I find my focus is hard to maintain.

Then I think of the Equator

Where the heat is no doubt greater

But a proud Canadian’s gotta complain.

Up in the sky, our Oppressor has shone

As I lie sprawled in the grass on the lawn.

And I know the day will come,

And it’ll make me feel glum,

When that lovely gold Oppressor has gone.

The Letter

I’m one of those kids whose read Harry Potter from start to finish over a dozen times.  And I mean from start to finish of the series.  Not The Philosophers Stone a dozen times or Order of the Phoenix a dozen times.  The whole thing.  Maybe that’s not that impressive to some of the mega-fans out there but I still think it’s a particular accomplishment.  It’s just about the only thing I have for free-time.  My mom takes care of me since my dad…and she can’t afford to get me a Wii or satellite TV or anything like that.  But I have Harry Potter.

                I’ve dressed up as a different character from Harry Potter for the last four Halloweens.  First I was Harry (duh).  The next two years people argue that I dressed up as the same character but clearly they haven’t read the series over a dozen times.  If they had, they would have been able to note the subtle differences that marked me as Fred one year and George the next.  Finally, last year, I dressed up as Snape.  A few people actually thought I was wearing a really bad Lord Voldemort costume.  Come on!

                But you see, this year is special.  This year I turn eleven.  What kid hasn’t read the Harry Potter books and hoped that they’d receive their very own private letter – express delivery via owl – inviting them to attend seven years of schooling in wizardy and witchcraft?  At the very least we’re the majority, I should think.  I know it’s not going to happen.  Harry Potter isn’t real.  I can tell the difference.  But still, it would be pretty great wouldn’t it?

                I don’t want to leave my mom all alone you understand.  That’s not why I want to get the letter.  My mom is fantastic.  Dad…left and she has done everything to make enough money for the two of us.  Most days she comes home and she’s burnt out.  And even though I’m almost eleven now she still finds time to read Harry Potter to me when I request it.  That’s just about the only time we ever get to spend together.  She’s working two jobs after all.

                But sometimes I just wish I could step into the pages of the books and enter the world of magic that Rowling created.  I know there’s death and pain and all of that but there’s almost friends, family, and adventure.  And the bad guys always win.

                What I really want is to step into Hogwarts and learn how to do a better job helping my mom.  She does so much work and I can’t do anything to help her out.  I’m only eleven.  But if I was a wizard I could use magic to do the chores at home before Mom got back from her second job.  If I was a wizard I could use magic to make our lives easier.

                I might even be able to use magic to make Dad…

                No.  I know that won’t happen.  But it doesn’t stop me from sitting with legs crossed on the welcome mat in front of the front door on the morning of my eleventh birthday.  I know the letter won’t really come.  But I can imagine.  My mom left a note for me on the fridge.  Happy Birthday big man!  We’ll do something nice for supper, I promise!  She’s usually gone by the time I get up.  Luckily, I know how to make pop-tarts before I go to school just up the street.  And she always remembers to pack me a lunch before she goes.

                So, sitting there, even knowing that I won’t be getting a Hogwarts letter, I get excited when I hear the post-man’s truck slide to a stop at the end of the driveway.  I feel myself getting excited as he comes up the steps.  A moment later the mail-slot is brushed open and a bundle of letters fall onto the floor.  I reach out and grab at the pile and flip through all the letters.

                I nearly drop all of them on the floor when I see the one addressed to me.  The script is identical to that used by J. K. Rowling in the first book.  Addressed to me.  Sealed with a red wax symbol with four familiar animals.

                I nearly run into the wall on my way to the kitchen I’m so excited.  I pop the wax seal and yank the letter out.  My hands are almost shaking as I unfold the paper and look at the words written there.  Everything’s exactly right.  The heading with the school’s name.  The Headmaster’s name and his titles.  Then the message:

Dear Mr. Fox

We regret to inform you that you have not been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Do not think that this is due to a lack of magical ability on your part.  In fact, we have been told by a very reliable source that you bring a world of magic and wonder into her life every day.  We feel it is important for you to continue being the magical person that you have always been exactly where you are.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

I stand there in the kitchen holding the letter for a moment.  I’m too shocked to move.  Then, slowly, I slip the letter back into the envelope.  I make sure to retrieve the wax symbol from where it fell on the floor.  From there I proceed silently up the stairs to my room.  I have a cork board hanging up on my wall across from my bed.  It’s covered in Harry Potter stuff.  Drawing’s I’ve made over the years.  Photos of me in my Halloween costumes, buying the books, and attending the only one of the movies I got to see in theatres: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.  I step up to the board and take a free thumb tack to hold my letter from Hogwarts.  I pin it up next to a photo of my Mom and I on the day I bought the first book.  My dad took the photo.  But it’s just me and my mom in the picture.  Just like it always is.  And we’re still here.

            I guess life is full of magic after all.