“While writing [the Gloria] I had in mind those Crozzoli frescoes with angels sticking out their tongues, and also some solemn-looking Benedictine monks that I saw playing football one day.”
—Francis Poulenc

I saw the monks cavorting in the avenue,
kicking a ball back and forth on roadside dirt,
nearly dancing, coal-hot feet catching
and releasing the white orb. For what
they played, and bowed a great Laudamus
Te, I couldn’t see. But wanted to
join in the fun, for all their banter,
pushing, panting, came from and went towards
                                                                        Someone.