Lost Time

Where have I been for the last year or more? I have been in the garden. I’ve been coaxing thin plants from old seeds, I’ve been pruning melon vines, harvesting dandelion greens. I’ve been in the forest. I’ve been walking late at night. I’ve been mushrooming. I’ve been printing. I’ve been asleep in the tent. I’ve been folding and piercing pieces of paper. I’ve been dreaming. I’ve been in the marsh. I’ve been listening. I’ve been in the archives, nose-deep in books and maps. I’ve been making lists of archaic names for animals and fish. I’ve been drafting poems and proposals. I’ve been binding books. I’ve been travelling around Nova Scotia, I’ve been talking to the river, I’ve been around Lake Superior, I’ve been in the water, I’ve been worrying and packing and starting over. I’ve been to Newfoundland. I’ve been thinking of you, I’ve been meaning to write. I’ve been sewing and scrubbing, I’ve been broadcasting oats and buckwheat. I’ve been watching the horses. I’ve been homesick, nostalgic, restless and uneasy. I’ve been driven and listless. I’ve been carrying water from the shrinking stream. I’ve been watching trout and catching smelt. I’ve been unable to work and unable to think. I’ve been taking my vitamins. I’ve been eating berries. I’ve been waiting for the big toenail on my left foot to fall off and reveal what is happening underneath. I’ve been taking notes, and I’ve been paying attention. I have been stretching the tendons in my arms religiously. I’ve been taking deep breaths, and going through the motions.