Anne Shirley-Blythe

Dear Anne-girl,

When It’s already light out at morning

And the Quaking Aspen beckon me

To the woods sparkly and exuberant

When my walk to my car is mistful and balmy

And the birds are chortle – sing hello

Back and forth; while hip hopping my yard


You return a Siri voice

“Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”

A whispering sage:

“I couldn’t live where there were no trees–something vital in me would starve.” 

Leaving me craving

A reread of Avonlea and Patty ‘ s magical place

Of baby twins and seaside magic

And birch nymphs and even Canada ‘ s WWI heartbreak

A ritual started from my teenage bedroom

Curled next to lofted bed

With spring breezes encircling

Before my own college days,

Before my own Gilbert-love


My dear friend,

The race who knows Joseph-

You give me hope.



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