WIND'S MOAN MCMLXIX.

The French peasant monk

scythed the tall grass
with a slow
motivated motion,

nunc et in hora
mortis nostrae
or each moment
of our time in life
temptations come and go
Dom Thomas said
even in the life here
in the abbey,

dans l'abbaye
that first time
late evening
bell tolling for Compline
moon glow
sprinkled stars
entering the church
in semi darkness,

nel buio semi

red altar light
incense aroma
silence about me
shadowy figures of monks
entering the choir stalls,

gli stalli del coro

well polished wood
dim light from high windows
out there the world's night life
has begun here
the monks chant the office
Santa Maria
the statue above the altar,

la mente il proprio posto

e di per s pu fare un cielo
di inferno un inferno del cielo
John Milton said I read,
Dom Joe met me
after Compline
and led me
to the refectory
for supper alone
just him and me
and the evening wind's moan.