There's a Hermit

There's a hermit behind
the town he was born in.
In some woods
his youthful visage
cleared dark thickets,
his scragly balding head
reclusing further
from skeletal mechanism.

Just outside, it swarms,
but when dark, he sheds tears
for the long days ever longer,
opining these years:
the same neighbors always seen
in their windows
who turn the same way
to the same places
to the same
'till bony and creaking.