between the cloisters and the walnut trees

three days away,
three days a kind of respite -
finding myself once again
strangely warm, uplifted, understood
in quiet, echoing spaces.
the crunch of leaves underfoot,
of fallen walnuts,
sunlight through the cloisters,
clashes of sound -
women ululating in celebratory praise,
nuns gently stepping over tiles,
crows circling,

i commence my morning vespers
around the convent walls,
the babe and I,
and our spirits -
breathe in crisp air,
run fingers through shaking trees,
recite words old and true,
pause awhile

i do not know what you would think of this place,
i do not know if its solitude, its solace
would beckon you,
or the candid communing among my compagnons,
arabic benedictions, glittering robes,
glistening eyes,

but for me,
it was living water
to drink and share.