A Peaceful Feeling Mcmlxviii Poem by Terry Collett

I followed the thick set monk
along the silent cloister
him white robed
hooded against the cold
hands hidden
in deep pockets,

in tasche profonde
hands formed into fists
to hold the cold in check
as I entered the work shop
where a tall monk stood
bearded un invité à voir
he said smiling,

smell of incense
and baked bread
and monks,

feel of rope between hands
rough pull down
Dom Peter said
then let go
so I did
son de cloches
in the afternoon air,

I gazed at the cloister garth
from the common room window
pacem and my hand
on the radiator
a book by Marmion
before me resting,

Deus caritas est
the old monk told me
as we sat on the seat
under the shadow of the tree
ipse novit nos he added,

I walked the cloister
towards the refectory
for supper
my hand against
the orange brick
as I walked past
rough and smooth
on my finger's touch,

ascoltare Dio
the Italian monk said
as He listens to you
listen to His voice,

Dom Joe(dear Bunny)
spoke of simple things
in simple things
we find Truth he said
vérité dans
les choses simples,

silence in the half dark
before Compline kneeling
watching the red light
at the altar end
and a peaceful feeling.