Victoria poet, Judith Castle, a resident of James Bay, knows the impact of time on memory, a state of reverie interwoven with shifting contours of life from a slower-paced rural setting juxtaposed to a rapidly evolving urban environment.
time and the grass trimmer
her grass trimmer chews a narrow trough
between lawn and earth
round the perimeter of
Zed Hotel Douglas Street, Blanshard
stretching north on 17
to Island View Road
as she works in the buzz
of trimmer she’s deaf to her rural past
falling to ruin
rain rolling over wrecked roofs
country store, the way fields once lay beneath sky
before shed, back buildings
plunged, and her beloved trees lay axed—maple
oak—cedar of Lebanon uprooted
behind her back
the future she cannot hear unfolds its plans
speeds toward her
mounting south where sudden towers
rise along roads, lawn and earth
wearing cement she can’t see poured
storeys underground
as she packs the first-class grass trimmer
daily bread, into the jeep, her edged past
already fled into future
as though time held no now
Mile Zero Mirror 