I live 30 minutes west of a small city of 150,000 people. Walking down the main drag, called “Princess Street”, I remember my previous life in Toronto, my home for over 30 years.

It is early twilight on a November afternoon. I am in town to take a ‘haiku stroll’ for this week’s Sense of Place writing event. The air is biting cold. Not fully prepared, I promise myself to wear warmer gloves and a scarf next time.

In the descending dusk I feel caught in a void between the warmth of daylight and the glitter of night lighting. I beg the street lamps to turn on. After a few blocks I sigh with relief as they do, but there is still a lackluster feel to this outing. Is it me or the people around me?

Cold dusk

eyes barely lift

along the sidewalk

In the summer, baskets of flowers…