Solitude
I let
her in for the
winter,
Solitude.
She
arrives in December
and
stays till May.
She
likes the basement best,
seated
by the wood stove
in a
rocking chair.
Wind,
ice storms, nor’easters—
below
twenty degrees
she
seems more present,
more
quiet.
Every so
often
she
falls asleep.
When she
wakens thereafter,
startled
and chilled,
more
wood is needed.
- Thomas Lequin 2016
Thomas
Lequin is a priest in Maine, who is also a farmer, Maine Master Guide,
hunter, fisherman, and poet. His work has recently appeared in Iodine
Poetry Journal, Anglican Theological Review, Iconoclast, Echoes, The Whirlwind
Review, The Daily Bulldog, Church World, A Parallel Universe, The Alembic,
and an anthology of contemporary animal poetry, The Wildest Peal (Moon
Pie Press), 2015.
2 comments:
Lovely. I remember Father Tom. Such a nice person. Didn't know you wrote poetry, Father Tom.
Rosie B.
Dear Tom! Your wonderful poetry comes always fresh and new from your good, loving, heart! I miss the days we spent together long ago, but rejoice to see how you have grown beyond those student times to become a beacon and guide for the many souls who have found Christ in you.
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