Other bells

From "Flowers & other pickable weeds"

April 29, 1978

Upon the midnight hour

All the bells are ringing near you

So you cannot hear me

Or know

That I ring only for us,

For all bells

Seem to sound the same

All seem to call your name

But they are not all me,

And yet, how are you to know

Which is me,

And that I ring

Only for you?

Sputtering spring rain

The spring rain arrives here

Like a model T Ford

A sputtering mass

Struggling to climb over

The hilly horizon.

This ancient thing we

Thought vanquished

By the deep chill

Coming with sturdy

Determination to get to

This destination

One long mile after

The next

Out of date by decades

But steadfast in its

Steady pace

Dripping and drooling

Over us with tears of joy

As we bask

If not in sunlight

Then in the hope

Of certain change

The cure

Warm breath stirs it up

Even in a cold as crisp as this

The thought of its touch

The feel of it around me

Like a moist glove

Of which I can never get enough,

The up and down

And inside out

Aching to fine the right

Finger hole to keep warm in

The breath and width of it

The only cure