Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Saint Joseph's Abbey

Spencer, Massachusetts
visited 30 March - 6 April 1992

Here, no television
to put forth candidates
for the distracted multitude,
no advertisements to entice
the urge for acquisition:
here, nothing but space,
peace, and monk-built walls.

The grass of the hill
south of the guest-cottage
accepts what weather comes
(chill rain, warm beam,
white flake, clear sky),
and does not complain.

A rabbit scampers
across the landscape of Lent.
By day, bluejays gather
on cemetery branches.
Night's alive
with the menace of owls.

Three hours before dawn,
leave the fieldstone house;
let night's chill scorch
soul and skin; walk the path
unlit but for one light
near a statue of the Virgin;
enter the cloister, fear-
fully, wonderfully dark.

The atmosphere of Spencer
is electric with angels!

Cistercians file churchward
to chant their wonted psalms:
With subtle fire, with cordial flame,
the brothers' gathered hearts
are inexhaustibly enkindled,
by grace made one.

No comments:

Post a Comment

In the Silverware Drawer After Dark

The steak knives are playing the Ramones at full blast. The salad forks are dancing with the teaspoons to the tune of "Come On, Ei...