At as the day itself slides into evening the dog hurries us through the empty street:

past the grieving house, where heart-shaped stones line the window ledge, curtains firmly shut against the evening darkness,
past Gallows Hill, with the sleeping dead & the windswept stones that mark their graves,
past the weathered benches & abandoned swings, gently swaying in the soft mist.
All sound muted to a hushed silence, broken only by the faint choir of wind & sea. 

Before we reach the water’s edge, the clock strikes five & the weekly tolling of the bells shatter
the silence, each shuttered church ringing their own fierce prayer. 

Catherine Walker

Catherine Walker is an instructional designer, educator and writer/editor living on the South Shore of Mi 'kma'ki (Nova Scotia). This past year she has been reading and writing poetry with Ben Gallagher and friends at the local library most Sunday afternoons.