Hermit We meet a hermit, Near Mount Lebanon, His church carved, Out of the rock, His life carved, Out of time. We disturb his day, Like dropping a pebble, Into his pool, He ripples out to see us, In his dark robes, Bending under the door, Like a wave. He seems to like, Some waves of company, In his calm lake, On his own terms. “Vous êtes francais”, He says, You can cook for me, He adds, You eat well. And we smile together, Ripples passing across our faces, Through our souls, In a wave of company, A moment together, Carved out of his life, Carved out of silent time.
Hermit for a minute I asked Noah, Who has seven years How long Could you be a hermit? He thought For a little while In silence. Then said, “Me, I could, Be a hermit, For a minute. No less, no more. If you have seven years, You know, One minute already, Is eternity”.