On the Invasion of Ukraine, February 24, 2022

We can take walks on snowy streets exploiting our own sadness.
We can exchange pleasantries with neighbours who resent us.
Our letters will make it through the post and city hall will do what it does,
whatever that is, under a sky long tired of its tedious birds.
We can take a walk in the bleached-bone snow, laughing at unfunny stories
we will tell on ourselves, past children who can fall to the ground on purpose
and rise when they’re done pretending to be angels.

Richard-Yves Sitoski
Owen Sound Poet Laureate 2019-2022