Hobbit Hole Solace

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The very best place to be
when life is difficult for me
is a hop atop Toad’s wild ride,
stalwart Badger by my side.

When disaster seems too near,
as if prophesied by a rabbit seer,
I go all Watership-Downy and escape
every trap, snip-snap, in the landscape.

Or I push troubles to the back
of Wardrobe’s deep coat stack,
tumbling sideways toward a ghost —
Mr. Tumnus at Narnia’s lamppost.

Lion and witch flip and switch.
Winter’s chill becomes Munchkinville.
Aslan morphs into the Cowardly Lion,
lickety-split, without even tryin’.

White Rabbit reminds me I’m late,
I’m late, for a very important date!
But if my troubles double, I just wait.
Soon they’ll shrink and evaporate.

I find refuge in lashes-slashes of words
where storms divide troubles by thirds,
unlacing and remaking them as adventures,
sources of fun, possibility-epicenters.

Home comforts in Treehouse or Hobbit Hole
are recreated for friends, Toad and Mole.
The best part is when adventures are over,
my cares stay with Hazel, nibbling clover.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Notes: For Poetry Friday this month, we were challenged to write a poem about a place of refuge or solace by Ann Rider and Michelle Heidenrich Barnes at Today’s Little Ditty. I’m in under the wire.

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