Spirit of service
In perfect simplicity
Living within light
The hermit’s cave stands open to the winds, no more than a covered space, sheltered by stone and yew. A spring, a rocky shelf for a bed… no monastic cell demands such drastic poverty. Yet, for the hermit who tended the Portway and its transient population, this was both home and chapel. Seven hundred years have passed since he carved his faith from the stone, making a symbol of suffering into a living tree. Perhaps that was his answer…to live his faith.
The rough shelter is as beautiful as any cathedral. Standing where he stood, cold winds and the creaking of empty boughs erase the centuries.
Haibun for Colleen’s poetry challenge