1

My soul is refreshed drinking from the well

Of memory as I alight from the bus after

An overnight trip: Here where I used to dwell

My heart delights breathing in the old ether.

I walk up the hilltop church under the bell

Summoning the faithful to first mass. Ever

Constant in their God-love my townspeople

Trudge up the path in a faith perhaps so simple.

 

 

2

Constant in their faith perhaps so simple,

Next they trudge to market in their devotion

To prepare the next meal. Now food is ample

It seems: they can’t be caught in the vexation

Of traffic, the multitude flowing like treacle

On the pedestrian bridges: apocalyptic vision. 

In constant faith they stock up their refrigerators:

My town dwells in fume and racket of motors.

 

(May 17, 2015)

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