Of Hat and Shoes

Of Hat and Shoes

Should I remove my shoes?
In her wimple, kneeling on the floor,
Sister Cecilia’s rhythm caught my ear,
and only then my eye, her sleeves rolled,
her arms dimpling with the strain,
the sound of winter pines rubbing in the wind,
caught in her song and scrubbing.

Should I touch my hat,
passing her on the narrow stairs—a breeze
follows her habit of Poor Clares—the brim
across my stare, do I dare to raise my hand?

How is it those trees are more beautiful in snow
against half-hidden seeds and wrap of bark?
How shall I confess these reveries, and less
than that, what becomes of love not blessed?

— Rick Maxson

T. S. Poetry

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: