The Watch

I sit at the mouth of my cave
facing inward.

The moat is empty as
the water beasts proved defenseless.

The gates are open since
the land beasts destroyed themselves.

Overhead, the sky beasts,
with talons sheathed, watch over me.

I sit at the mouth of my cave
facing inward.

To Become A Writer

One must write daily and
with considerable output.

I accept this.
But my difficulty is with the words “daily” and “considerable”.

Will I ever be called a writer?

I am undisciplined.


I am old enough to know
I will not see the worst,

so global warming is not
what I chose to fear the most.

However, my lawn greening in February
does give me pause.

Waiting for the Muse

White paper remains clean, and
pencil, sharp.

Coffee cools and
turns bitter to the taste.

The old man shrugs,
walks to the sink,
and empties the cup of dregs.

He dims the light and
climbs into bed.

Tomorrow, perhaps.

The Cave

The hermit does not seek the cave.
The cave seeks the hermit
And brings with it… Nothing.

Am I ready to accept
The empty cave?

Perhaps… In time.