A Reading

For my second and final spot at this year's Edmonton Poetry Festival, I found myself featured as a "well-aged" poet in a "vintage poetry" event at a seniors centre.

The long-time host had died. His successor read a poem in his memory.

While I enjoy cukes as much as the next person, I felt ambivalent about being selected for the seniors context.

The hospitality was first-rate, of course.

And a heart-warming collection of former team-mates and high school mates showed up, along with my publisher, Douglas Barbour of NeWest Press.

Everyone felt comfortable enough.

I did sell a book or two.