Pilgrim Path

This blog is the work of a seeker and poet. Walking stick in hand, I head out into the world, not of the world, but in the world. My words and my friends carry me along and light the pilgrim path of spiritual journeys.

Friday, September 28, 2007


He sits on the porch and ponders life
watching wooded trees at the horizon
set ablaze by the late afternoon sun.
Words spring forth from the songs of birds
chanting their Vespers prayer.
He fingers the narrow pattern
of woodgrain on his rocker,
stacked like lines of a familiar poem
waiting to be spoken aloud
in his own nightly prayer.
Meanwhile, his hunting dog lays
at his feet, witness to this testimony.

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Anonymous Abbey of the Arts said...

This poem is speaking to me in the most lovely way. The Hours are such food for the soul and this is beautiful nourishment.

11:30 PM  
Blogger Rich said...

Thanks, Christine. The curative powers of time at a monastery are amazing!

9:12 AM  

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