by Antonia Clark
or the certainty
of a cardinal against
the tenuous promise
of incipient green
by Calvin Wharton
a hymn of devotion to the green
and in the air, a red kite or team of swallows
by DF Parizeau
As youth, my friends and I
always picked the coldest weekend
of the year to go camping.
by Allan Lake
In exasperation my prairie mother
finally said something . . .
a door I'd never noticed,
opened, providing a way out.