Hermit

The river carries pebbles
from your hiding place in the hills.
I'm not sure they carry meaning
nor do I think some subtle shaman
clothed in bark and smelling
of smoke and goats could help
to read these igneous fragments,
but when I see them eddy and stir
in the fast spring currents
I think of you up there
in your coat of rabbit skin,
and I wonder what could
have possessed you
to trap the cold in
between your past and
a present, so self agrandisingly grim?