Humour, Just for fun, Lifestyle, Poetry

grist for the mill

On July 1, 2018, I moved from the beautiful village of North Hatley, Quebec, where I lived for five years, to the equally beautiful town of Almonte, Ontario, where I may live for the rest of my life. Or not. Who knows what the universe has planned?

Anyway, in anticipation of my relocation, I subscribed to daily updates from The Millstone, a non-profit, volunteer-run online newspaper for the people of Mississippi Mills, Ontario. I was delighted by an article (authored by talented local artist Ellen Hennemann), about Almonte’s main street, which is actually called Mill Street. It inspired me to write the poem below.

Three years later, I asked Almonte-based photographer Paul Latour if he might lend me the use of one of his images to pair with the poem. He obliged. I photoshopped his original pic with the result above.

And here’s the poem:

grist for the mill

© 2018 punkie

grist for the mill

It’s true it’s confusing
maybe even inane
to name a street mill
when it should be called main

“how could it have happened?”
tourists wonder in vain
as they wander around
in the snow, sun and rain

mill could be up
between mary & martin
and main could be be down
where the hill is just startin’

why don’t they just switch it?
why not make it clear?
replace mill street with main
‘cause everything’s here!

it’s chock as a block
full of fun and smart places
and in june they make room
for the bicycle races

not everyone favours
suggestions of change
though over the years
there’s been quite a range

almonte’s heart had grown quiet
until some saw potential
now it hops with cute shops
packed with goods quintessential

i love it that mill street’s
the name of the main
so what if it’s sometimes
a drain on the brain?

if it where me,
i would leave it the same
add a twist to the list
of the town’s claims to fame

 

© 2018 Susan Macaulay. I invite you to share my poetry and posts widely, but please do not reprint, reblog or copy and paste them in their entirety without my permission. Thank you.

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if logs could talk

twin suns

come winter

 

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