‘Pray unceasingly’ exhorts the Gospel of Matthew, Benedictine monks stop every hour, at the strike of the bells in a clock tower, to say the Prayer of Hours, and these are my prayers for today – plainspoken thoughts, perhaps not poems at all.

[1] Light on the breakfast table To be eaten with bread, milk And oranges. Thanks for coming Through the night with me, bringing Me into another winter day.

[2] Leaning on a broom, I sweep This room, dust that has settled In among piles of untouched books. Fashion some part of me into Something that does something Likewise on this ancient earth.

[3] Soup steams in a glass bowl, Soon enters my body. Charged dust, Meat and vegetables, nourish me well So that I can wheel through the hours Offering thanks to that which Entered you once, and that Through you, upholds mine today.

[4] When I walk into the winter cold, Wind from the southeast enters through The lapels of my coat. Body starts Tingling – let me feel your presence For a moment, down to my bare bones, In this hour, before night falls.

[5] Paper cup, coffee, talk of doomsday Scenarios with a woman, whose face Reminds me of a Raphael’s painting, His greatest, ‘La Fornarina’ (the Baker’s Daughter). Remembering her, The painting and the need to pray, I dig on for the buried Soul into this moonless night, Murmuring, “thank you, thank you”.