Birth of a Hermit

Photo by Savvas Kalimeris on Unsplash

In the half-light of afternoon
she sculpts potatoes.
You know to say nothing —
her Cordon Bleu course
working its way through.
Coronation chicken was a
favourite, then birds stuffed
inside other birds.
It’s how we transitioned
from the 70s, each new
house needing wider wings.

Were we upper middle
class by then? I don’t know
but I remember how much
it mattered & how little
I cared for small talk or dry
sherry with the neighbours.
Steer clear of people, said
the old man, the answer to
his longevity. A hermit’s
seeds were sown right then.

Copyright Simon Heathcote