It is the simplest province to look at,
its borders straight and nearly parallel,
scattered with lake blue
and the thick lines of highways.
They say there’s a road every mile in Saskatchewan.
If you travel west for long enough, Highway 10 hits the TransCanada,
and to the east it stretches into Manitoba, the flatter of the two provinces,
We take 10 in from town,
turning left onto the grid road,
a gravel stretch with deep ditches on both sides,
until the road lilts upwards,
and the barn speaks red at the end of the long driveway,
the house patient and grey
at the very end.
(From a writing/dance/film project I’m working on in Saskatchewan…)
Shannon’s written more about the project (and performance!) here.
I’ve also been trading poems daily with the ever-inspiring Rhya, something we spent years doing. There’s something about reading new, new words, and someone else’s words that reframes my own writing. I’ve spent so long working on a novel manuscript, I was afraid the poetry lens would have disappeared forever, but it’s returning, slowly, slowly…