I am intrigued by holes.
I am mystified by holes underneath boulders
or the exposed roots of a tree;
even a hole in a lawn gets my attention

They send my imagination into overdrive and I wonder…
Who lives there?
Is it some small animal?
Is it some wee member of the fae world?
Or could it be some imaginary being we have not yet heard about,
something entirely new?

And then I wonder…
How and why was the hole created?
If it’s under a boulder it might have been created over time
by weather conditions, erosion of the soil,
or perhaps the excess runoff from torrential rains or spring thaws.
Or was it excavated by industrious little paws?

If the hole is under a tree,
perhaps the tree was uprooted by strong winds
or some other force of nature.
Or maybe the tree just grew weary with age,
until it toppled under the heavy burden of time.

But a hole in a lawn? Ah! Now that could be
the entrance or the exit to some little critter’s home or winter food stash.
It could be the place where a dead plant was uprooted and
it could be waiting to welcome the feet of a new plant.
Or it might simply be the spot where the family dog buried
and then dug up his favourite bone.

Whatever the story behind them, these dark mysterious holes
so often provide the perfect fodder for my imagination.
They present so many questions and possibilities
and so I am intrigued by… holes.

© Fay Herridge
Published in Canadian Stories, Oct/Nov 2017

In the next edition, after this poem was published, I was pleasantly surprised by the following item:

Marie’s Musings…
I am beginning to appreciate poetry a bit more lately, especially the ones I can identify with and understand without too much effort! HOLES seemed to be an unusual title for a poem, but after reading HOLES by Fay Herridge I realized that she has touched on a subject that fascinates most of us in one way or another. Who can resist examining a hole to see what is in it – or on the other side? In my youth, I seldom passed by a gopher hole, a coyote den in a cut-bank, or a knot-hole in a wall or fence without finding out what was in it or to examine what had been left behind. A couple of years ago, we found a hole in the garden and my husband started to examine it only to find a huge wasps’ nest underground. I had not thought of the subject before, but Fay summed it up in her last sentence, ‘I am intrigued by holes.’ I hope I never lose my sense of curiosity either.

By Marie Minaker
Canadian Stories, December 2016/January 2017

Thank you, Marie Minaker, for such wonderful comments on my work. It means a great deal to me to know that someone enjoys and appreciates my humble efforts.


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