Found in the woods

This poem taught me that, when I’m feeling stuck, I need to stop trying so hard and just keep my eyes and mind open.


Still empty despite lunch
I take the dog and my mind
To the woods
And let them off the leash

In a clearing
We meet Jim
Sitting in the sun

I see him most days
In town, yet never here:
His presence jars
Like a concrete lamp-post.

Twice a week
He says
He comes out here
To gather firewood.

We talk a while
Of work we could
Or should be doing, dogs,
And spending money we don’t have.

Till he nods his acorn-shiny head
Heaves himself up
And shuffles off
Gruff and lonely

A landlocked beachcomber
In his paunch-strained t-shirt
Denim cut-offs and blue tattoos:
The poem I came to find.