Halyard

Hermitage, Romanesque, Heritage, Vall De Boí, Taull
Pixabay

Father Halyard was a true solitudinarian, though he preferred the term hermit.  He was a man without pretention and preferred the solitary life of prayer and devotion.  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the visits from the novices that were occasionally sent to bring supplies to the hermitage.  He would receive not only food and reading materials but news from the mother house, though he would never allow conversations to descend into gossip.  What he missed most however was fresh daily bread warm from the oven.  Everyone has their weaknesses.


Padre

Weekend Writing Prompt #208 – Solitudinarian in 90 words

See also:  The Hermit

                A Long Retreat

 

On Mother’s Day

May be an image of 2 people, including Anne Mitchell

The day approaches in which to give thanks

To the one who gave me nuture

And into the world – me carried

You were the very dawn of my life,

Who cared and cuddled

And for me did shed tears

And in my tender years held me close

Your heartbeat in my trusting ears

You were the full moon of my fledgling days

And though by others – as I grew –

My affections were thereby eclipsed

But you remain forever my mother

The measure of all women

Whose orbit I shall never forsake


Padre

A Paint Chip Poem

The paint chip words and phrases that I used: dawnheartbeatfull moon.

The Replacement


“So you will be taking over from me next year?” Miss Kerrie asked with a kind smile.

“Yes, and I’m really looking forward to it,” Miss Dover replied. “I think that teaching is the most wonderful job in the world.”

“Well, it does have it’s moments,” Miss Kerrie agreed. “I love your enthusiasm, It reminds me of when I first started and I am sure you will get as much from it as I have.”

“I really hope so. May I ask if things were much different back when you started?” Miss Dover queried.

“No, not all that much. After all it’s only been six years,” Miss Kerrie replied.

“Six years? Is that enough time in service to retire?” Miss Dover asked, a bit confused.

“Retire? What makes you think I am retiring? I am just moving into retail, that’s all. I’m only twenty-nine.”


Padre

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER: 2021: WEEK #18

While Picnics Wait

Picnic Table, Raining, Wet, Trees, Mud, Dirt, Nature
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay 

When rains
Arrive beating
Winds howl and fences creak
Be thankful for prescious moisture
Cloud born
Water
While at times falling – unwelcome
Still is a life giver
The Spring picnics
Can wait


Padre

After an April with near drought conditions, I was glad to see much needed rain. Yet all across social media people were complaining that the May Bank Holiday was a “wash-out.” This despite the fact that the pandemic is still a very real thing.

Written for Colleen’s Poet’s Choice challenge.

Jack

Mahdie Farhadkiaei

Jack can’t be trusted

He’s in truth a bit of a rogue

It doesn’t matter what suit he’s in

He’ll shift to whatever’s in vogue

You’d thing that as a lofty facecard

He’d be a bit more discrete

But it proves that those royal cards

Can be mere villains and cheats


Padre

Photo Challenge #364

Treasure

Sea, Beach, Berck, Bay Of Authie, Hauts De France
Pixabay

The crew of the Red Vengence were a bit surprised when Captain Skull returned to the vessel accompanied by a sailor named Jon Farthing. It was the captain’s usual practice to kill all those that had gone ashore to bury his plunder. But this time there was a survivor that might lead others to the booty.

Three months later, Skull was arrested by officers from a French frigate while ashore to procure provisions. At that, first mate, Hal Scallion decided the buccaneering life was becoming to precarious with British, Dutch, and French navies now patrolling the Caribbean. He ordered to Vengence to the atoll where Skull had last buried loot and told Farthing to accompany him ashore.

As they left the dinghy, Scallion handed Farthing a shovel and told him to recover the chests. Farthing scanned the beach and did some mental calculations and the proceed to a point in the sand and began to dig. After over an hour, and with nothing had been revealed, Scallion shouted, “Farthing are you a dullard? Have you forgotten where you buriied the booty?”

“No Captain,” the youth replied. “T’was ten paces from the seal on the right. I am sure of it, I am. Captain Skull telled me that I was to burn it in me mind, and if ye asked, I were to tell ye just that.”


Padre