Like Startled Moths
January 24, 2012 § Leave a comment
She tiptoed forward and blinked at the lifeless courtyard.
She hesitated, then gently tapped the tubular chimes.
Like startled moths wafting out from a wool sweater,
The wheezing monks appeared out of nowhere.
They gathered about her in a flurry of good-natured panic,
And hurried her along to the broad wooden gate
Festooned with foil packets of curry powder
That rattled and gleamed in the hazy sunlight.
In a daze, she glanced toward the rows of Iceland poppies
Growing on either side of the steps.
An unshaven novitiate handed her a pennywhistle,
A clothespin, and a peppery sandwich,
And reverently gestured toward the ornate doors at the top of the steps.