SUCKED IN OR OUT.

A NOVICE AND MONKS IN AN ABBEY IN 1971

Gareth skimmed a stone
from the beach across
the incoming waves.

That's how you do it,
he says, following
the stone's ride.

The Prior sitting
on the beach
in his black habit
and brown sandals,
stares, unperturbed.

That's how
some people see life:
something to slim over,
not delve into.

I sense the wind
touch my hair;
a bell
from the abbey
bell tower rings.

She wanted
more of me;
I sensed her
suck me off.

The Belgium monk,
lights candle
after candle
by the abbey altar.

His tonsured head,
his deep set eyes,
scanning the high hung
Christ hanging there
by two chains;
outside
the downfall
of heavy rains.

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

What imagery your words allow me, Terry. I could almost see the dimmed light of the candles flickering, as the sound of the rain grew more intense.

How glorious it would be, to walk through those halls, with majestic ceilings and archways. If only those walls could speak.

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, Kelly.

[Kelly Scheppers]

My pleasure!