I shut myself  inside an old house

of high ceilings and winding steps. A window

on the stair landing


brings in the nearby world

of a street lamp and some trees

that have shed their blossoms. They now live

in a green frenzy of leaves


afraid of what the wind

will carry back from the fields and river

that border the next  town.


In the young hours of  morning

between 4 and 5, light glides across the vaulting

like a dove with his wings spread wide

and his beak clamped


with the intensity

of Picasso’s bird, poised to peck at the air

clearing it of  dust  or anything else

that may hover in the gray hush. I watch with my wrist


cuffed in a blue rosary, thinking this is a sign

of attaining peace of  mind, of blessing exile

with  primal grace.













6 replies on “Cloistered”

Thanks so much Michael,

for sharing you keen perspective and taking the time to read this poem! I am glad you could visualize the atmosphere because it is pertinent to the ,theme of the poem.

Take care and Be safe,
My Best



Ah, the place of refuge. May the Lord continue to bless you by drawing you into the center of his peace.

Beautiful poem.



Hi Mark

Thank you so much for reading and commenting on this poem! Finding refuge in times of struggle and chaos is so important, especially in the comfort of one’s faith and trust in God. In return, May God bless you and your family, keeping all of you safe and helping you find the strength and peace to meet the challenges ahead.

My Best


Hi Sarah

So glad you enjoyed the poem and I thank you so much for your lovely comments! Jim and I are doing alright and have stayed safe and healthy – thanks to God’s care and our efforts to be alert and sensible. I hope, dear friend, all is well with you as well.

Take care


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