On the train from Oshawa to Montreal
the journey at times comes within sight of Lake Ontario
but even being so close to it for half of the trip,
the tracks wind mainly through woods and copse,
not availing a view of the grandeur of lake and surrounds.
A treat then, when the trees fall away and behold,
a superb view of the magnificent Lake Ontario
its water glistening, shining on a sunny day,
lazily moving wavelets rising and falling
gently lapping along the shingled shore.
On days of storm and gale, though,
those same waters change to raging monsters
the swell rising high, crashing down into vacated dip,
rushing vehemently towards the unprotected land
and swooshing well past the natural shore edge,
sweeping beyond and onto inner grounds.
Today, we are treated to a blanket of clear sky,
sun shining aloft giving sparkle and glow
to the freshness of the new spring leaved foliage.
So too, the recently seeded farmlands warming,
encouraging grains to burst their pods,
to root and grow to reach their harvest.
Two hours pass, the great Ontario Lake edges away,
left behind as the train continues on its routed track.
Now, the mighty St Lawrence River is so nearby
but sadly, no sight nor glimpse can be seen,
hidden behind a deep breadth of fields and forest.
Train speeds swiftly on, journey ends in Montreal
but the river flows by that hub and past Quebec City,
slowly wending its way to the Gulf of St Lawrence,
swirling around the beautiful island of Newfoundland,
gradually merging into the North Atlantic Ocean.
Written on the train from Oshawa to Montreal - 18th May 2023.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem