Morning Duties: with the Tired Monk

tonsured hair is growing in
beard sways as he takes a pull
from his Starbucks
throws his trailing robe up over
his shoulder
prayer beads slide, roll
through fingers
sandaled foot taps
Joel Plaskett sings, strums
in white headphones
photocopier hums
done
tired monk collects his papers
strolls slow and steady
to his office
shocked, surprised, questioning stares
follow him

country morning 2

outside
first smoke of the day
on the steps
boxer shorts, unzipped hoody
roam over to pet the dog
chained and wagging in his
homemade house
workboots flopping
unlaced and muddy
neighbour drifts by slow
on the county road
waves
salute back with
a cigarette hand

unseamly behaviour down
in the burbs

country morning 1

up to the store
paper n'coffee
drift on home
waving, quick "toot"
to each neighbour
they wave back
they know the car
slow country turn
left lane for a left turn
back down the laneway
too far to walk

French's Poem 1

late night and starlit cute
quick make-out, whiskey kiss
over the low 428 rumble

Tired Monk 2

coffee, so dark
ground perfection
poured, mixed
a cup nurtured
brewed slow and right

the tired monk
makes the best coffee

Tired Monk 1

the tired monk
yeah, he's tired, but he listens

met George many, many years ago
George gave wisdom
in heaps and dashes

family, aging, cooking, learning,
drinking, singing, loving and sinning

George knew some things

the tired monk listens

Old John

slowly, john has drifted
he still loves her
solid, solid love,
but he has drifted
drifted slowly out to his garage
drifted out there and built
a retreat, slow and steady
fifty years of beer fridges and tools
filled every drawer with nuts,
bolts, nails and screws
projects and motors
rebuilt and ready
a t.v. a radio
hockey night in canada
talk radio always on
he's drifted out here
a den of rust and oil
sure he's drifted
but he loves her