Chimes
Clear crystals eat iron voices.
The wind dies; its bones rattle on.
A stealing wind moves many loose tongues, but where?
"Where' is not the question but a movement,
a rapport pealing from somewhere.
When wind is silent, wind chimes listen.
Speech goes deaf when the wind rings.
A snow laden sky sings under our feet.
Icicles chime in the sunlight.
Tinkling is the light.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment