Learn-ed wounded bell
from windows I look up
to that sound,
the catastrophic in-depth song.
Round church walls
over sparse green fetters
the rammed notes,
a populous island of sound
cascaded upon by silence
by traffic and rain.
Church bells summon the world,
summon me to look up
and acknowledge, without greeting,
that the new day’s come.
Still my age is rippled
in its tide,
halved glories
that couple.
Joy is wordless.
To hear the bells exploding
in the halting dawn.