For Alexander Hugh Sutherland, 1870-1952


What talks would we indulge in, Great-Uncle Alex
if you returned to Earth
South from Heaven and East
from your western province homeland
to meet the niece you never knew?

What thanks I would extend to you
for your legacy volumes of poetry
left to my mother, who always made it an occasion
when from the china cabinet
she brought out your treasures of craft
to share with my siblings and me
throughout our youth

your physical presence far from Earth
by the time I first encountered you in print
you thrived in our home in your own style
painting for us (and all your readers)
the Selkirk Settlement, the Manitoba Memories
and old Victoria for my thirsty eyes
and treating us to the scents and scenes
of landscape, all your favourite flowers
attention to astronomy and Star-Dust
tributes to your heroes and heroines
and news events, like the visits to Canada
of the royal couple of your day

Would you smoke a pipe and sit with me at
the computer, instead of in the armchairs of lamplit parlours?
welcome me as you did the members of the poetry circle
you started?

Wonder at the speed of words crossing countries and
continents, linking poets?

Would you, blood muse of mine, build poems with me?
Renga perhaps, something symbiotic
Have you ever seen haiku?

What would you think of the modern poets?
The prevalence for minimalist forms
the influence from the East
the decline of popularity in rhyme and lengthy narratives?

Would you be surprised to find the epic style
you often used, upstaged now by quick, concise poems
spare of adjectives?

That I was born the year that followed your death
does not grant me the claim of reincarnation
but your influence of inspiration undoubtedly worked
each time that china cabinet door opened and your
small leather-bound and paper volumes surfaced
to light again in our living room

would you be flattered that the ritual fired me up
from the turn of the first page, and the dedications?
The sight of your name embossed on the covers
followed inside by the list of
"other books by the same “author”
stirred pride in my heritage

one of these, in our possession, was autographed
to Margaret, my mother, with fond wishes at Christmas
tucked into another was a letter, penned to you by
the hand of Sir John Masefield, personally commending
your talent

not long ago I shared your Earle volume with my daughter
for her fondness for the Arturian Legend
showing her your epic poems on this theme
sometimes I see you returning from your work-a-day
world, the bank, to slip into the Camelot one
of Guinevere and Arthur

other times I try to visualize your reaction
to that letter from Sir John.
What works had he read of yours?
Had he come across them in the literary forums?

I know you, Uncle Alexander Hugh Sutherland
(your surname, my mother’s middle name)
partially from her reminiscences, of her kind
and humorous uncle who, with his wife, shared his home
with Mom, in her early teen years
but more so from your own words
alliteration, allusion, and themes

would you host me on your plains of Manitoba?
stroll seaward near your last homeland, Victoria
or walk with me on Ottawa streets?
In each other’s settings, discover, with me
new catalysts to creation?

I hope you wouldn’t be dismayed at all the changes
in poetry since your death
rest assured some traditions are still timeless
such as the sonnet

I am convinced that Great Uncles who were poets
are timeless too.

02/15/2004

Author's Note: the title's only a working and will be changing.

Posted on 02/15/2004
Copyright © 2025 Maureen Glaude