The Whistle's Lure:

A train whistle floats in

and I'm filled with a longing ache.

I yearn for places I've not yet been,

horizons abandoned for your sake.

***

I've spent Saturdays in Montreal

enjoying bagels and boulangerie,

I've whiled away Sundays in Toronto

warming up with ramen and roti

***

I've cherished memories of solo summers

spent adventuring in Algonquin,

of boarding planes just to taste

the salty mussels of Moncton.

***

I've combed the waves

of tussled beach hair in Tofino,

and paired Huron's painted sunsets

with crisp Niagara Pinot Grigio.

***

Thousands of days spent in untethered grace,

and that whistle now calls me to roam.

But as it fades, you give me a kick--no, a roll,

and I smile, finally content to be home.

***