Robin Pilcher – poetry

Robin Pilcher

CELLAR

To young minds in happier times a place of adventure, Aladdin’s cave: bare bulb casting dancing shadows into cobwebbed corners, a modest stash of wine, stored potatoes, onions, apples, all fragrancing the chilly air, assuring us of times of plenty, a continuity.

Now, a different reassurance, as life crumbles above our heads: we wait in darkness now, listen for the whine and crump of shells as dust of ages, dislodged, sprinkles our faces in mockery of benedictions seemingly beyond our reach.

And yet, like sown seeds, we will emerge from the dark and broken earth, vines pushing through cracked concrete, to thrive again.