Time was…blue waters ran in and out of cool lakes
and the paddle made no sound
slipping by reeds
where the muskrat and pike lay suspended
dark trunks lurched toward the river
extending indifferent fingers
a ghostly scraping on the red canoe sides
as evening grew
somewhere the beaver sounded
though no one spoke
and the sun ceased dancing
and lay in an orange and yellow puddle on the water
time was no time
here and gone and yet to come.
Time was…blue waters licked the island shore
a curling dog tongue
on the wrinkled skin of ancient stones
the jack pine stood narrow and straight
tops lost in the void
and the earth untroubled
carried our impetuous weight
on her furrowed belly
limbs shrunken by cold
grew warm and heavy
in the amber touch of the wood fire
the ground stank of life and death
spongy under our sleeping bags
time was no time
here and gone and yet to come.
© Peter Scott Cameron, Northern Ontario Anthology, Highway Book Shop Publishers, Cobalt, Ont. 1977