The Tickle (for Sara and Alex)

Some say no one really knows where the river begins
Or how many springs draw from deep
to feed its mighty trunk
Two branches, each meandering in its own good time
Before becoming one at The Tickle
and making majesty manifest 

Did each know that the other was there all along?
Or that the journey would continue with wellsprings always in view?
Home.  Rooted.  Intertwined.
Where the church bells still peel the important hours
And the soil where ancestors first planted hungered-for potatoes
now sifts through young toes in the new garden

Hope and Promise lie at the confluence of ancient waterways
Where people with roots much deeper first came together
And sunlight careens off the ripples
as it did when Mi’kmaq was etched into slate rocks
To be right there, cherishing and cherished
On this River, in this house,
In this time, in this Love