67th Letter to a Poet
Yesterday boasted an afternoon disaster.
I yelled at someone in our nearly vacant
church. She was chatting away
on a cellphone, but standing just
outside by the holy-water stoups,
and maybe thought no one could hear.
I bounced back toward evening to workshop
two fairly recent sonnets with Carol,
a member (like me) of the early Bee Hive.
Carol tells funny stories: there was the time
she was confirmed by the late Episcopal
Bishop of Massachusetts, and kneeling
before the prelate, couldn't get back up.
So she gripped the bishop's legs
and hoisted herself up with his "support"!
We both laughed. I had felt so awful earlier
I thought of going to Mystic Wine Shoppe
and buying a bottle of the cheapest red.
Carol said, "You chose the right mystic!"
Meaning herself. Indeed, she has some poems
of spiritual transport like Hildegard
of Bingen's or Mechtild of Magdeburg's.
"I love God!" Carol blurted as we parted.
And God loves her. And so do I.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
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Written on 2018-05-25 at 08:15
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