Young Man's Head Mcmlxxi Poem by Terry Collett

And the old abbot aged
and pulled down with cancer
walked the cloister,

et aestu saeculi nobis,

even though cloistered
and of God,

I swept the landing
after the office of Terce
with large broom
and dustpan and brush
and there was a huge spiderweb
in a window,

Salve regina audi nos,

Dom Kenneth sorted
the altar cloths and plates
and holy cup where
the Crucified's blood is sipped,

and she welcomed me in
and sat me down
and unbuttoned my flies
and took out the feller,

the deeds you do
may be the only sermon
some persons
will hear today said Francis,

au travail est de prier
the French monk said
as he helped me
with the refectory
cleaning up before lunch,

George cast his stone
further that the rest of us
after the office of Sext
and our lunch
and sitting
on the abbey beach,

don't let your sins
turn into bad habits
Teresa said,

mine almost did back then
and with her
Yochana that is
not Teresa,

bell ringing
as Hugh showed us
his thin frame and arms
but the tolled bells
carried to far and wide,

parlare con Dio
ed egli vi ascolterà
the Italian monk told me
but my prayer life
was less than his,

we are twice armed
if we fight with faith
said Gareth quoting Plato
and I had only read
the Republic that far,

Dom Joe(dear Bunny)
said to me
God has something special
in line for you
but I never found it
least not then,

πλέουν στη θάλασσα στο Θεό
a visiting Greek monk said
and Dom Charles
translated for me
but it went over
my young man's head.