the old monk sheds his sandals
wades into the mucky ditch
swinging his sickle
mowing thick swamp grass
just ahead of torrential rains
pulling heaps of vetch
stuck in choking muck
rakes, shovels, loads
three heavy barrows full
the water runs free at last
down through the culvert
into the low valley stream
the abbess appears
smiles
offers a dark rich
French press coffee
I was thrilled that the abbess appeared. Smiles. Havent seen her for a while. Thanks for your lovely comment on my site, Ollie.......what good years we have penned our way through!
ReplyDeleteAw...how sweetly the poem ends after all that toil.
ReplyDeleteJust what a tired old monk deserves...a smiling abbess who knows her coffee...offering him the best, a dark rich French one:)
ReplyDeleteI love the ending with the abbess bringing coffee! The best kind of friend!
ReplyDeleteIf you're clearing someone's mucky ditch and then they smile and offer coffee.. yes, it's a nice, warm world out there...
ReplyDeleteThis brought me great joy! I say the Old Monk is one cool dude.
ReplyDeletebeautiful
ReplyDelete