on demons

the demons slipped out

they are out more than in...most days

today they sit huddled together

out on the edge...waiting? just watching I guess.

   they look bored, a bit disgusted maybe.

sure they cycle back and poke, look for gaps,

try their old ancient tricks

I can still see them, but it is harder.

eventually they'll break off, and just leave

soon

Soda Bread Poem

Soda bread, scones, 

and Guinness stew

Irish kitchen folk songs.

I pour a stout, later a red ale

then sip a Jameson...slow

think on my family

from Clare, Wexford, Antrim, 

Wicklow, and Cork.

Blessings, peace and rest to you

this St. Patrick's Day.

Mediation from a fellow tired monk.

stop

breathe

acknowledge...

...that you are alive.

That's it. 

sleeping monk

when I sleep I'm healthy

striding deep in pine forests

up and over gnarly roots

inspecting forest floor mushrooms

and high branch Ravens

when I wake

I'm sick

 with "the cancer"

my very blood is rebelling

Brother John says: "Sleep is God's Medicine".

good remedy for this most tired monk.

morning moment

rain

coming in sideways

won't end for a day or two

bleak

mother bends down low

eye to eye

under bright umbrellas

smiles

shares a laugh

with her girls.

Post Hiatus Blessings

hey god bless you

may you have a most serene

and peaceful day

and some fun.

rejoice that you are not dead

and remember to not let 

the hard days win.

derecho

smouldering mounds of hay

damp from today's "minor storm"

...a major storm ripped through

about a week ago

twenty minutes of destruction

120 year old barns gone - all gone

horses wander around

no warm stall tonight

trees raining down

twisting metal

crumpling bricks

puncturing houses

early morning chainsaws