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Snow in the garth hanging on the branches of the tree like fingers of white dea candidis, the old monk shuffled through ankle deep snow cowled head bowed hands hidden in his black habit wind moving about him, Dei qui tollit peccatum humilis confessionis facit Dom George said quoting St Bernard humble confessions is the key he added, white snow on the window ledge unspoilt untouched et quasi virgo pura, bell tolled heavy bell disturbing snow on the bell tower rooks took flight into the white sky, parlare con Dio the Italian monk said lui ascolta, I watched the French monk sweep snow from the path long snow shovels he moved, un ange à votre coude Dom François said I gazed at my elbow but saw no angel, snow drifted across the abbey like fleeing ghosts twirling and twirling round and round, I read in the common room a book on prayer worn edges aged sleeve smell of damp and time, Gott ist gut the Austrian monk said eyeing me a small smile lingering on his lips I said nothing but nodded slow, after office of Sext and lunch I told the Prior I would have to pack my bag and go.
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Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
SNOW AND MONKS MCMLXIX.
Snow in the garth hanging on the branches of the tree like fingers of white dea candidis, the old monk shuffled through ankle deep snow cowled head bowed hands hidden in his black habit wind moving about him, Dei qui tollit peccatum humilis confessionis facit Dom George said quoting St Bernard humble confessions is the key he added, white snow on the window ledge unspoilt untouched et quasi virgo pura, bell tolled heavy bell disturbing snow on the bell tower rooks took flight into the white sky, parlare con Dio the Italian monk said lui ascolta, I watched the French monk sweep snow from the path long snow shovels he moved, un ange à votre coude Dom François said I gazed at my elbow but saw no angel, snow drifted across the abbey like fleeing ghosts twirling and twirling round and round, I read in the common room a book on prayer worn edges aged sleeve smell of damp and time, Gott ist gut the Austrian monk said eyeing me a small smile lingering on his lips I said nothing but nodded slow, after office of Sext and lunch I told the Prior I would have to pack my bag and go.
A YOUNG MAN IN AN ABBEY IN 1969.
#man#young#abbey#monks#1969
TerryCollett
Written by
TerryCollett
78/M
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
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