Or Is It Just Me?

the sound of bells in the Winter

 The peal of a bell
Has a different peal
When heard in the crisp air
Of a sunny Winter morn.
Whether it be the carrilon
Of St Josephs Cathedral
In Northside Cincinnati (my boyhood home)
To the singular bell of Capistrano
Where the Swallows no longer dwell…
From the smallest of chimes
Adorning the traces of sleighs
To the greatest of gongs
Or the tinkle of kitty cats collars…
The sound of a bell (even in a cemetery)
by some sort of strange, icy alchemy
does indeed become changed…
More clarion, more crystalline
More heartfelt, more lovely indeed
When heard in the crisp air
Of a cold Winter morn

Author's Note

does this ring a bell?

Reviews

[John]

A celebration of the sound bells make rather than their nostalgic associations. Other bells come to mind, like the school bell or the town crier's. In London, the sound of Big Ben can be heard every night on the 10 O Clock news. They are connected to Church, School and Parliament, but this lovely poem just focuses on their (usually) delightful sound.

[David O Whalen (O Haolin in Celtic)]

Thanks John, for your clarion comments. The only bell I don't like is the bell on my alarm clock! This was just my required writing for the day and not meant to have much poetic value or merit. When I get time I'm going to go thru my blog here and delete this one and many others that I probably shouldn't have posted.