Or Is It Just Me?

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 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

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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