MIDDAY CALM.

MONKS AND A NOVICE IN AN ABBEY IN 1971

The white haired monk
lights a candle
on the altar;

his tonsured head
bows to the Christ;
his aged fingers

hold
the long lit
taper.

I help make soup
in the kitchen,
the cook monk,

watches
my every move;
I recall

how she sucked
me in,
her whole body

vibrated
to my motion.
Dom James walks

from the orchard,
a basket of fruit
beneath his arm;

the sun warm,
the hour
a midday calm.

Reviews

[Gee]

As usual a pleasure to read and yet again I found myself in amongst the words.Nice Terry,so nice.

[SleeplessVolcano]

How masterfully you squeezed a whole short story into a poem........it bursts with hidden meanings, as if there are many chapters to come......I love "a midday calm" which for me, implies, a possible calm before the storm.......

[Terry Collett]

Thank you.

[Jamestown]

This is a wonderful piece of work, incredibly poetic and flawless flowing word choice
thanks for sharing.

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, Jamestown.

[Jamestown]

You are welcome, keep them coming, I can learn a lot from the purity in your work.
if you have a chance, I would be honored to have you review my work,thanks and God bless you!

[Kelly Scheppers]

How poetically and perfectly written this is, Terry. The closing stanza gave much punctuation to your words...another brilliant piece, my friend!

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, Kelly.