Mike Montreuil writes “The following was written in response to Andrea Porter's Coniston. You'll see why once you start reading it…”
CONISTON, ONTARIO, CANADA
1.
I pass by
on my way to Sudbury
and catch a glimpse of what remains
of the copper smelter.
Two large stacks
remind me of the past
and of my grandfather,
before obsolescence
and Alzheimers.
2.
It was a better future
for a young man
and a young family
proud
of their small company house
with a yard.
It was an uncertain future,
sweating out each shift,
supplying the war machines
of far off Europe.
3.
Memories of the good times
remain with me,
memories of this proud man
who would take my hand
and walk me down
the wooden sidewalk
to his garage workshop
where I thought
I was really helping.
4.
The old house remains
but the shop is gone
along with the garage by the lane.
I can still see him there,
planing another board,
while a little boy in awe
smells freshly cut wood.
• Mike Montreuil lives in Ottawa and can be found at a hockey rink cheering on his son.
A beautiful response to my poem, Mike. There is a strange melancholy in your poem that reflects mine. The same name, different geographical location has a particular resonance about man spreading all over the globe but taking a place name with them ( I suppose some might regard it as an indication of British cultural imperialism of course). Perhaps others know of other Conistons and can respond with other poems? I know there is a Coniston in California, Georgia ,USA and one in South Africa; who knows we could end up with a Coniston anthology.