The Hermitage - Poem by Norah Tunney
My hermitage lies deep in a wood
at the end of a winding path.
It has a bed, table and an old chair
I live here without clutter or care.
In the evening I gather brushwood
light the fire and warm my toes.
At night I watch the stars twinkling
through the tall pines.
And as I fall asleep I pray for those
who suffer and those in need.
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