Ordinary But Not Always

Binoculars in hand I focus
on a pair of oversized furry fixtures
steeled to a budding leaf branch
preening, grazing, oblivious to Canons
clicking phones, birders’ with Nikons.

Why hawks are you drawn to this hood?
We are a stress free zone
where cats laze on sidewalks
raccoons dine on fresh leftovers
dogs in the daycare pack routinely
walk times three by Ruthie’s Court.

Hope and life chart that path.
We appear to be docile dwellers
we are ordinary but not always
living in our city approved spaces
covered by wet mist and pounding rains
unaccustomed to fur and feather flying
unexpected visitors, or the killing.

— Deborah A.M. Phillips

Seek the Peace of the City

Before our soul is lost to the real state few
and the foundations crumble as the cranes
kiss the mountains and mess with the view
as builders pervade with density in their veins

while we sit and savour our coffee locale
in a culture wrapped in beans and nature
with no chart, or map to any familiar space
the ghosts of architects loom over our fate

amidst the endless wording like rezoning
lack of supply and demand for detached
dwellings — as if it's wrong to be attached
somehow leaves the masses bemoaning

look around- don't follow the vapors in the sky
retrieve your emotions lost in this haze
rearrange those schemes of flipping the pie
Let's take the returns of Vancouver's best days

— Deborah A.M. Phillips