Summer, 2017 / No. 39

Walking across a piazza in Florence

diagonally, rid of Edward for a few hours.

Aged twenty, a colonnade of repeated

relief that Italy was not relinquished

despite bad decisions. Architectural

ecstasy. Freedom frescoed. Excavated joy.

Twenty years later: functional Whitehorse.

A chain-link fence on the way to work

is a diagonal frieze of diamonds

framing broad, white mountains.

Epiphanies at other ages, before and after,

in more predictable places:

On Aonach Eagach ridge. Aeroplanes

above icefields and oceanic wind farms.

Or simply scooping soft ashes from the stove.

Switching off a computer.

Arching backward in a kayak

on the wobbling sea, crown to fibreglass.

Joanna Lilley lives in Whitehorse. She is the author of the poetry collections If There Were Roads and The Fleece Era, and The Birthday Books, a book of stories. Last updated summer, 2017.