“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.