on a bench far from the bell towers, the air silent save for
the raucous calling of crows
to interrupt this peaceful Sunday morn; crunching leaves, dry cracked earth,
squirrels scampered, a backyard barbecue grilled juicy hamburgers.
a woman played with her child on bright blue and red swings. I imagined
the tolling of the bells -
their music drifting into the sky,
settling over the city in peace and calm.
“For bells are the voice of the church;
They have tones that touch and search
the hearts of young and old.”
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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