The Bells

Listen to the bells.

When they ring

In the early darkness,

They bring the snow.



I curl my bare toes around the top of the cold wrought iron railing

That circles the balcony

High above the headlights in the street

And the lovers on the sidewalk.



I am not young

And I never was beautiful,

But in my heart I carry the divine spark

And damned foolishness.



Spreading my arms as if I had wings,

I teeter in the shifting, chilly breeze.

I am losing the feeling in my feet.

I breathe in,

Breathe out.

I wave one arm, as if hailing one of the little taxis down below;

The sleeve of my red kimono makes me into a blooming rose...

I smell sweet,

I am temporary,

Barely here at all.



In my heart I carry the divine spark

And such damned foolishness--

The snow is pretty, all of it falling, earth-bound.

Hear the sound of the beautiful hollow shells and the strikers they need;

That's love, or something like it...

Listen to the bells.

_______

for One Stop Poetry