From My Window (13.ix.1975, Townsville)

Through the green leaves
tossed with wind
and crossed with light,
red tiles of roof
in a ring of verdant brown
crowned with a cross of white
haloed with light,
beneath which
sombre men in their monastery
pass the hours with an endless Rosary
and prayers to Heaven on their pious breath
with a quiet joy of their risen Saviour,
watching the world go by.

Silent stone,
cold polished floor squeaks with shoes,
everything like a tableau scene from a book;
time gives the intruder an icy stare.

Yet, there is warmth,
warmth and fire in the hearts of men
brimming with kindness
within the walls of lonely silence.

Warmth and fire;
man-made rules have broken them
since they were sanctified to God
as Chosen men.