Jan
14
‘The Piper Thinks’ By Seth Finnegan
- 14th January 2025
- 0 Comment(s)
Same-day dispatch — Order by 2pm for next-day delivery (Mon-Fri)
The moon like a pellet, floats the winter azure, as
A queen to this feral, vagrant earth.
Pipe smoke plumes and mingles into air,
The thin, sharp frosted air which separates the
Birds.
Only to loneliness do we find ourselves, our thoughts.
The man muses as the fire burns. Rich tobacco
Sizzles in the briar, too early for the first bright orbs
Of evening, the stars which glow like embers to the
Eye.
A solace settles, smoking is release.
The piper meditates upon his time, his day, the
Rolling hours that lengthened with the shadows. Even
The crows, as knots in the grain of skeleton trees, do
Not disturb him, focussed with his fire. They splinter
The silence, but not his solitude. Wisdom returns, his
Peace with every puff upon his pipe.
He finds himself in deep humility, returns his skyward
Gaze just like a child, as darkness steals on everything
But thought.
By Seth Finnegan