April 19, 2016

Window at the Abbey by Donal Mahoney

Through the window I see
the sun fire up
for the last time today.
There are jays
in the trees near the meadow,
crows in the grass
I cut with a scythe
early this morning.
Still on my platter
corn from the fields,
scallions, tomatoes,
bell pepper and cheese.
I'll remain at my table
with lemon and tea
and look out on the land
that surrounds me.
The psalms a monk 
gave me this morning
I'll read for an hour
before sleeping. 

Nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, Donal Mahoney has had poetry and fiction published in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa. Some of his work can be found at  http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html


  1. I always look forward to your work. This captures so much of monastic life and earthly gratitude. Thank you.

  2. Another admirer of your work, this poem is so restorative. Thank you once again.

  3. I thank both of you for your comments. The poem germinated many years ago when I was a student at a small college run by Benedictine monks in Lisle, Illinois. I was a smart-keister kid from the South Side of Chicago and these monks put me on the right road during the two summers I stayed on campus and did odd jobs. One of the jobs was in the abbey garden. I knew nothing about vegetables and I can still here Brother Raphael, alive and his nineties today, marching up and down the rows and telling me, "Pull the weeds, Mahoney, not the carrots." Some things remained tattooed on your memory for a lifetime. I had no aspirations to be a monk because I was not suited for that life but I ow those monks so much for helping me get on the right path.


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