It's Still Life

A Song of Bells

The sound of bells
fell quiet as my every leaf falls.
It cuts me
to the quick, this

season’s turn, this
calendar page departed.
Be of haste and hurry for
there’s a seedling at my foot.

A breeze. The wind. I hear
rustling troubles on the horizon.
Cold is north.
Wet is south.
Today it’s south, this wind.

The trees beside me
are skeletons, bare flag-poles,
and soon we’ll lean into mixed joys
and sorrows of snow.

Life is a history of
standing in this darksome soil.
Swaying in a storm, the wind
singing like a flute, and

swaying
to melodies of robins
and blackbirds.
Nature’s nests cling
to a knobbled branch, as I rage

at a storm’s noise, only
wanting to hear bells ring again.

Written for Miz Quickly’s “To be a tree” and PA’s “Memory”  and Twiglets #252.   Image from Unsplash. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter  ©Misky 2021