Thanksgiving Day At Holy Hill Poem by Bernard Kennedy

All night Long, and next day long
It rained and wind howling morning,
The sheep removed, ram and all to a safer shelter.
That sheep may safely graze.
The hermitages all full,
A boy from Texas, a girl from Alabama,
A boy from Tennessee, a girl from Illinois,
A girl from Singapore, a boy from Wisconsin,
A girl of Colorado, a boy from Mullinavat
And a priest from Galway, another Dublin.
All at Holy Hill, with the hermits
From America. On Thanksgiving.
Evening Mass sung with young voice,
Though no economic value drew them here,
The deadly limited economic principle
No narcissism here but open tenderness
Of faith and hope and growing things
Not greying things of measure.
The youthful future diaspora of faith
On this turkey thanksgiving
Of camaraderie and Eucharist.