THE ONE TIME WE GET RAIN

Predominantly dry all year,
Though hot or cold, no moisture here,
        Save once a year, a fling
        With rain that falls in Spring.

In June alone for days on end
We watch humidity ascend.
        A weird Calgary quirk,
        And constant as clockwork.

Hot summers, sunny, blazing bright
With cloudless sky in day or night
        No rain to quell the heat
        Watch every day repeat

Dry winters, too. Humidity
Is down around aridity.
        “It’s a dry cold,” they say,
        Despite the snow all day.

One time it flooded our downtown,
So much rain all at once came down
        It soaked our urban core.
        But still, we wish for more.

STAMPEDE FASHION

Stampede has much to love and hate,
That “cowboy culture” party date.
        But don’t let your loathing
        Extend to the clothing.

The normal regulations change
For work attire: a wider range.
        The office workers smile
        And wear a diff’rent style.

Both men and women in their jeans
And flannel shirts, in formal scenes
        Where shirts were once the rule,
        The cowboy look is “cool.”

All other times of year, they’ll be
In Bay Street suits, a drab grey sea.
        But just for those ten days,
        Stampede brings comfy ways.

For even those of us who hate
The “cowboy culture,” we can’t wait.
        Why not take up the chance
        For comfortable pants?

LRT CARS

Our city’s light rail transit cars
Had a design uniquely ours
        (Forgive that almost-rhyme;
        I will improve next time)

But anyway: the trains were white;
Three stripes across the side, in bright
        Blue, purple, indigo:
        The C-train cars we know.

But recently new cars intrude,
Bright red, with sleeker attitude.
        The old ones are retired
        As new ones are acquired.

At train stations when trains arrive
They’re mostly new; few old survive.
        But rarely it will be
        An old car there for me.

No AC, hot and clanking, loud,
Hard seats, can’t fit a decent crowd,
        But comforts to behold
        As I, like them, grow old.

THE PLUS 15 NETWORK

If you’re downtown in my hometown,
And you look up instead of down,
        Criss-crossing overhead,
        Pedestrians can tread.

Enclosed pathways hang o’er the street
Above the ground some fifteen feet
        They’re free for all to use
        To keep snow off their shoes.

We call these skyways “Plus 15’s.”
At rush hour they’re amusing scenes.
        As traffic jams below,
        Above, on foot, things flow.

Much like Vasari’s Corridor
In Florence, though quite a bit more,
        And made of glass and steel,
        A futuristic feel.

A boon for walkers, yes, but some
Say it has made our street life glum.
        Still, in the winter’s cold,
        The climate is controlled.

THE CENTRAL LIBRARY

Our brand new Central Library
(I say “brand new” but it will be
        some five years old this year…
        that’s neither there, nor here)

It cuts across the urban sky
Between the towers, gleaming, high,
        A ship of glass and white
        Built to a massive height.

This Noah’s Ark where knowledge grows,
This Ship to Valinor of prose,
        This Viking Longboat stock’d
        With scholarship unlock’d!

The staggered floors of City Hall
Next door suggest a wave to fall
        Upon and sink the ship
        In choppy waters’ grip.

A message from the architect?
That truth by politics is wreck’d?
        By public money buoy’d,
        By partisans annoy’d!