over river rocks in a week-long dream;
the rosewood resonance still there come the daylight hour
with walnut splines for the curve of that fine aural wheel.
Music box church bells
in the snow-brush fingers of your gloves at sunset fall
with quilted maple and the movement gone melodious
was religion enough, and that's enough...my love...that's all.
_______
for Tree Sisters.
Thank you to The Wood Whisperer for information about making a music box.
Oh the many things we enjoy in life that a tree fell for. Love the angle you went with this one Shay. Brilliant as always!!
ReplyDeleteFor my Sundays simply the sound of the bells is enough... i prefer the sermon of snow in the woods.
ReplyDeleteOh, and this poem is exactly enough, in its perfection.
ReplyDeleteReligion enough, indeed!
ReplyDeleteSunday church bells... I love the sound. I would rather go to my spiritual place with the sound and not the walls. Beautiful piece
ReplyDeleteI am in awe of this piece --- the first two lines, the phrases "rosewood resonance," "walnut splines," "snow-brush fingers," and "with quilted maple" ... So tender and gorgeous, Shay.
ReplyDeleteThe ending language at the end makes me imagine the beloved has died.