Bells

bells from edges of my dreams a morning chorus begins softly. in the forest meadow a slow plodding rhythm sways closer, brings recognition. cow bell’s, their tinny clunk made more melodious, all harshness trapped among the evergreen branches on bedewed trees. Hick’s cows, their udders full, seek relief from the soft handed girl who waits at the gate their music is joined by the bell from the old Anglican church tower perched on the hill behind the barn, it shyly peel’s out a message. both sounds intertwine, ascend flow over still somnolent water, not even the fish are jumping yet, the heavenly praise loses it self in the primeval woods. Sunday bells early summer morning Inglesby Bay.