Sunday, 11 January 2009

Strange mix

The bells start it all off
a ten bell peal rings out
from the tower
a reminder of the village green feel
just down the hill
where the circle joins again.

Then, comes the tolling tolling
and it's uneven reflection
from a different bell tower
a solo bell
pulled with a long swaying rope 
out of time with itself.

In it's glorious calling crescendo
the arcs of a crying baby
full of unhappy sobbing breath
flood over the edges
cross the phrases
a mother singing
lulling long lines
in time with the bells.

Like sudden bullets 
punctuation
with no words around it
a bar and a half
a rhythm and a half
of a car alarm
with a sudden cut off
each time.

After a minute
it begins again
chopping the morning
into chunks of time.

And still
down in the tower
the joyous gold
of the carillon.