Hermitage
Halfway within
the sheltering woods
you found yourself.
The hut is an egg,
gate of emptiness,
closed and open.
The four walls:
passion and joy,
fire and silence.
A touch of ashes,
smell of paper,
sound of shadows.
Like God, the Guest,
the homeless burn
the mortgage deed.
And deer are not here,
yet with pure mind
the deer come.
The hermit left
the door open,
looking out.
Every poem
on love we write
is a threshold for death.
The lamp the neighbors
see in the dark
is blown out.
Royal Rhodes is a retired educator who taught classes in global religions for almost 40 years. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals, including: The Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Snakeskin, Sparks of Calliope, Quaci Press, The Montreal Review, and elsewhere. He lives in a small village in the midst of farmland and sheep pastures.