Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Counterpoint


                                     ... counterpoint to the wind / perfectly still ... I listen to the chimes

     ... a crazed monk drunk on moonlight 

                                                                          ... the world called to prayer





6 comments:

  1. Dear Teresa, thank you for this poem. I've been that crazed monk drunk on Presence. For me, writing is prayer. And I'm so glad that I'm seriously writing again after several years of being away from the story. Peace.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, writing as prayer ... I so understand ... very much so . Enjoy your writing.

      Delete
  2. Peaceful, ever ever so peaceful. You've captured imagination with this. So eloquent.

    ReplyDelete
  3. What a lovely image that gives me! I will think of a crazed monk out there calling us to prayer now, when I hear the wind chimes randomly picking up and falling quiet at night.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Jill. Good to hear from you . I hope all is well and you're getting adjusted to your new life in the City. :)

      Delete

When leaving a comment, Blogger requires you "Select a Profile." Please do so, or your comment will disappear into the ether...