Hergest Ridge

Where you appear from, I know not. On my walk, at the table, between the store isles… With a smile you part solitude, and then leave gently with balance restored.

You speak to me; ask all the right questions. I answer, but first look around for no other can see you. Sometimes you tease me, to cox me out. And I can’t help but smile, knowing you came just for me.

Today I saw you on the shore, standing and looking at the grey water under a grey dusk sky. In the summer wind there we met, but it was part of me from ago that was there. Two streams of time entangled on the sand, water washing over our wet sandy feet. Without words, we talked a while. Then, you left again, to where ever you go when I feel better.

You’ll come again, a few or dozen more times. And then something will wash you away until you perhaps drift onto my shore again.

With an owner unworthy, a yellow dog lives in this house.
 
I sat for hours and watched others enter and leave,
but none with a familiar face passed.
I try to hold my own ground, and not ring the doorbell.
Any meeting I imagine played itself out on more neutral ground.
 
Then again, maybe cornering someone in their own home
is the ultimate position of power.
But here I cannot help think myself a lost puppy
crawling back to its owner after getting lost.
 
Having someone beside would shift the focus -
take me out of the light I wish not endure.
 
In the end, the hardest battles are fought alone or with oneself.
 
My imagination floats away on the gentle spring breeze -
I ponder a plot to steal the yellow dog
and never returning to the crime scene.
 
 
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“At last, when you free the marionette from its strings it’ll lie lifeless before you, for that which binds it is also its life source. And if you’re truly a great man you will breathe life back into it, inspire it to live a life of its own – for freedom without inspiration is the worst kind of death.”