I wrote a few
poems today, but the one I like I’m going to keep for my poetry course, and you
can’t share anything already published. So today I’m posting one that I wrote
on July 30, and I’ve just reworked it. Cheers. The sun is shining here, so enjoy the
day. Hope it's shining wherever you are.
The hermit
The hermit cuts silk pearls in his garden,
Trims back the seaweed conspiring to wander
Into its own retreat, starlit, starstruck.
He stems the waters seeking to slide out.
Life suspended never knocks him offside.
Patience is the thing sustaining him these days.
He can wait. The waiting always waits for him.
In his mind he’s trudging untravelled roads,
Living experiences he’s only dreamed of.
His house curves like a crab’s hard shell,
All these doors stand ajar, never closed,
So the air can breathe and run on through.
He never questions why life is on pause,
Only endures it in a way it becomes endurable.
Like a bird he waits in his nest for spring.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 1, 2020 (first
draft July 30)
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