THOMAS HARDY CIRCA 1900

Why so bleak, Hardy?

You made it,

even if the marriage

is lacking in love and cribs;

even when they

gave no laurels

that didn't wither

for your novels.

You made it,

like this heavy house

your drew for yourself,

you stand colossal,

unmoving in the

landscape of your time.

What if there is

nothing but these

long, long decades

looking through the

window panes of the

soulless mind

at the tumult

outside your aging walls

of flesh and thought?

What if, when

there was so little

so long, and

now, in the long gray

afternoon, so much?

A man has his share

in time, space and achievement

and yours are plenty

until they close

the fertile earth upon you.

The soil shall not remember,

but it shall not weight heavily

either; unlike these years

you have pulled

atop yourself.

25.02.2020