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The Winter’s Hermit

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Sigh,

In a hole I live

It’s not a riddle

Not a mortal mystery

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Around me

It is white and brown and gray,

Yellow where the animals

Show weakness

I am one of them

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There is no cheer in

What I do,

As I intend there

Shouldn’t be

I wake up in prayer

And close the day

With it

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And inside darkness

I might sleep

Or listen for the rustling

Of other animals

The Holy Spirit

Passing by

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Or an ancient demon

Haunting the loss of

Following and home

An age ago

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C L Couch

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Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

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