Can You Hear the Cowslips

Listen carefully: those are bells ringing. To whom are they calling? From where come the peals? Here in the wild countryside the pale-yellow cowslips dance a lonely jig to the tune of the wayward breeze, dispersing their melliferous fragrance, gracing us with their herbal remedies. And still the bells peal! Do they toll for me? Reminding me of my needs? Shall I gather the cowslips? What shall I do with weeds? There see them grow in the vale or along the riverbanks where waters rush headlong, zigzagging through the silvery alleys, making their way to the far off sea. And the bells still peal! The cowslips sway in the breeze. I stand still devoid of fantasy, empty of coherent dreams. What will I gain from cowslips? except distil it in my cellar and enjoy its narcotic sips? Still do the bells toll? Why? What for? My heart knows, of course. I find a shade, I kneel, I pray. Let the bells toll. I've heard as cowslips bend their heads.