Dawn at Saint Anna’s Skete

The air is cool and is right thick with birdsong

as our bleary crew files out, of a sudden

disinterred from three sepulchral hours of prayer

into an amber brilliance rioting

outside the cemetery chapel. With bits

of   Greek and English intermixed, the monks

invite us to the portico for coffee,

παξιμάδια, a shot of cold ρακί.

As I say, the air is cool, animate

and lit, and in such light the road already

beckons, so I skip the coffee, pound the shot,

and pocket two hard biscuits. And yes, the way

is broad at first, but narrows soon enough.

παξιμάδια — pahximáthia — Greek biscotti; ρακί — rahkeé — Greek grappa