Taken with permission from jerb's flickr account0808200912021215
The hermit on a hill spend days just "to be,"
mingled in a mirror that time and space scribbled.
A barren gift of sweet filled candies,
rewards received from prisoned warmth unshackled.
Luminous lights of halogen fireflies amuse,
silly thoughts of impulsiveness to write.
Clear and infinite kaleidoscope ruse,
often seen stolen from a cold rainy night.
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