The Hermitage

The Hermitage on the hill beckons, but the gardens are so beautiful that I dismount and lead Oliver who seems as determined as I am to stop and smell the flowers.

Chickadees, I see you,
and hear you,
you mischievous little feathered funsters.
I know you're waiting here for me
to come and feed you,
and soon I will.

And there,
you cheeky little squirrel,
bushy tailed and unafraid.

Gentle deer,
lightly stepping,
blending in the trees
like shadows in the night.
Brown eyes watching every move
with wary innocence.

Just below, the river flows
and herons stalk the shallows,
watching the ever widening ripples
where finned ones
break the surface tension.

High above, egrets fly
and eagles soar.

This is where the Goddess dwells.
I see Her everywhere,
in cheeky eyes
and bushy tails,
in spotted coats
and rippling water.
I hear Her voice in the chirping,
the chittering,
and in the whisper of the wind.

It is here that I expect to see
Faerie folk
and elves in green
with pointed hats.
Like us, they wait, respectfully
for the Goddess to appear
to bless us all--

and here She is
in Her guise of black,
with shiny feathers glistening
in the noon day sun.
She leads us toward the building on the hill,
toward The Hermitage.

Vi
©August 11, 2005