Mutterings Of An Old Hermit

Don’t tell me
what you believe.

There are those who
believe the earth is flat.

Is your belief
more believable?

The storms roared through
and tornado warning stilled.

The morning is clear and quiet
with only the scattered branches
giving evidence of the night’s chaos.

They will return,
those lines of violent storms.

It is their season on the plains.

With time, they reach higher and thicken.
Are they meant to keep me in or others out?

Either way, they bring peace and I am content.

It is an activity that is no more than a game
without rules or win/lose outcomes

which is played in an empty stadium
with no scoreboard by a single participant

who has no incentive
to complete the game or to even begin it.
.
Ergo: The Mutterings of an Old Hermit.

There is nothing more to say, Elizabeth (whoever you are)!
I depart from your sight and being, Elizabeth.

My action is best for both of us, Elizabeth.
Especially for me.

Fie! I slam the door behind me!

I am gone.

Is there a poet in this house?
Is there one who speaks with rhyme and meter?

I think not, unless it is the dog,
but I cannot point to her
since she speaks only to those
with more than two feet.

The Muse turns away
towards Schenectady.

I wait with patience for its return.

 

I know I am leading a quiet life
when my year’s most exciting event was
Microsoft’s July 29th release of Windows 10.

This is not a day to be out.

There are demons afloat
I do not wish to confront.

They are a frightful lot
even when they are not.

So, I will remain hidden since
hidden is a prudent place for me

Today.

Three red tulip blossoms
Return each spring

And we greet each other silently
As we have done for 30 years.

              ***

Petals drop
Stems dry

The tulip withdraws within itself
To prepare for reawakening
At its prescribed time.