Volume > Issue > Befuddled

Befuddled

A POEM

By Ralph Wright, O.S.B. | November 1983

A slow befuddled winter fly

With 747 abandon

Has trundled from my window sill

And God knows what he’ll land on.

Such geriatric flies present

A crisis to compassion:

To smear them or to leave them space

To die in their own fashion.

To Angela, Who Is Afraid of Clowns

Clowns are grandfathers

painted with strokes of laughter

who kiss lollipops

but never lick them.

…

To Phoebe*

Phoebe,

Gentle handmaid

Of us all,

Who assisted Paul

And others

Of the early church,

…

The Hidden Years

A workman asked at a village door,

“Have you a bed, a chair,

A fallen…