Os meum apérui
et attráxi spíritum,
quia præcépta tua desiderábam,
monks were assembled in the church
settled in the choir stalls,
the bells tolled from the bell tower,
I stood gazing at the book in my hands
Latin script, plainsong,
her bed was warm,
she hugged me close,
lead my hand to her bush,
the French monk talked of the Psalms,
God's voice scribed there,
Hugh swept the cloister with discernment,
unless I believe I will not
understand Anselm said,
the cloisters were cold in winter,
wind swept through the low walls,
the German monk wrote of the Trinity
his slight limp showed as he walked,
moonlight through the window
as we made love on her bed,
I picked apples in the abbey orchard
placing them in huge bags gently,
Dom Bruno spoke of charity,
not as human love but deeper,
without us God will not
without God we cannot
Augustine said,
fingers in the stoup
we crossed the cross over breast,
in her thighs I made rest.