My kingdom for a garden to foster new relief
On the backdrop of romantic years that go at their own speed.
It's not a perfect surface; the fruit rolls from the shelf
And I'm of no mind to fix it with hands that are no help.
I'm thinking of chopping wood
Like a man of condition,
Like a man of the elements,
Like a man of conviction.
My kingdom for some context, for deliberate unease,
To clear a dirty conscience. It takes a rotten seed
To be a good Canadian.
Like a man of provision,
Like a man of the colony,
Like a man of revision.
As the sun sets on my time at the lectern
And I brace myself to learn how to listen,
There's little hope I'll grow into someone
Worth keeping around.
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