Salamanca Saturday.

 It was a Salamanca Saturday 

It was a Salamanca Saturday

The sky a piercing blue

The September sun still strong

Swimming in the Tormés

Lately come from Ireland 

Five years spent  in the seminary

Now coping with the blinding light 

After a dim Irish oratory. 

They shed their shoes

And donned their togs

And burnt their feet

On the roasting riverbank. 

The river waters seem to herald

A new beginning - a return to living

In exotic Spain of Don Quixote 

The Lord had surely delivered. 

First words of Spanish captured

As they ate their merienda 

Surely they had died and gone to heaven

On the road that led to Rome. 

The ideal of ordination

Steeled their resolve that winter

In a building without heating

Of Castilian simplicity. 

Nine months passed and came the summer

Working in fields collecting lentils

In the searing heat of La Mancha

Before escaping to green Asturias. 

Six weeks of swimming and of walks

Made the troubles worth the while

Counting down before the journey

To university in the Eternal City. 

And so we boarded, all excited

Possessions fitting in a tiny case

As we drove to Lourdes first night

And thence to timeless Italy. 

The final night beneath the Alps

In Mont Cenis with wine for the Vatican 

Sleeping in the bus seemed such fun

Before the driver made the home run. 

Rome was where I cut the cord

Sorry to see seven years burn out

Nothing to show except perhaps

A spirit distilled in the furnace.