the work

beating a broken path

digging down

into solstice snow

the forest pond

flooded flat 

with well pumped water

discarded kitchen buckets

and broken boards

become the net

cold monk tends the goal

twisted stick in hand

robes whirling for a save

doing the work

Brother Ollie

the tired monk 

neighbour

sharing warmth
and the red light glow
cast by our "hobo stick fire"
oh and big laughs
every time Tommy
tried to talk
or tell a story
without cursing

just a cold night
clinking colder bottles
singing Hip lyrics
 loud

our secret
Canadian handshake
these words

Hey man, thanks.



Gord 1964-2017

june prayer

i)

sweeping up
the last few
scattered bits
of sawdust
sunbeam motes
spin

ii)

wide stance
   bracing
pulling up
deep muddy logs
clearing a tiny
rivulet path



Brother Ollie - the Tired Monk

prayer - 8

no gusts
no bursts of cold wind sleet
just an unwavering wall
of Arctic air

the tired monk banks
the fire up
lights another lamp

prayer - 7

the tried monk
becomes aware
of basement noise
not the skittering
of mice this time

just the soft
sweet singing
of the novices

a gentle
happy sound
coming up
through the vents

prayer - 6

the old coleman stove
pops to life
the tired monk
pulls his toque down
huddles
 waits
for the heat to build

a gust drops
a skiff of snow
down over bowed head

prayer - 5

sun sets
just a dash
of warm colour
through the forest

cold seeps
in slow and steady
temple dogs
snuggle
in deeper

the tried monk
lights the hearth
flame