A Sunday Poem: “1905”

 

The lessons learned.

Close calls and warnings.

Brexit, Meech Lake,

Quebec  1995.

 

Backrooms

And greased consciences.

Hushed voices whisper

With grave tones.

 

In the West they get a whiff of

A double cross with,

The most Canadian of things,

A vote on a Vote.

 

While big brother Saskatchewan looks over

And waits to reveal,

They want a divorce and they have a lawyer.

They’ll agree to 50/50 with the pipelines.

But they are keeping the dog.

 

By W.N. Branson

 

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