Hermit

Cut off, remote and alone
a mariner on a tide of indifference -
abandoned, perhaps,
with a soul cold and grey
as moody skies.
A disposition as stern
and surprisingly welcoming
as the wind-swept heather
hugging hills fiercely
on all sides.
Perhaps in this corner
of Scotland, where everything
seems left behind and forgotten –
even time, and the changes it brings,
these solitary souls have
embraced silence bravely
and found, instead of
companionship,
an ancient, inexplicable
union
with landscape
and seasons
reaching across the ages
to the beginning.
We are all alone.
We are born alone.
We die alone.
Perhaps they know more than us.
Perhaps they remember the future.

- Scotland, 2001