Six bells-a-chiming

Six bells

Six bells,

the first call 

to morning,

I’d never believe 

it was so still 

and July, 

for the early morning 

is with mist 

and wreathes 

of hanging clouds, 

the summer heat 

has simply gone, 

slipped under 

the warning bark 

of crows, 

for the earth 

is wet, 

with furrows 

of running water, 

like afterthoughts, 

forgotten thoughts, 

empty thoughts, 

the runnels 

of memories, 

the collapsing dreaming 

of the lost

and drowning 

of spring, 

and although

the balcony is empty, 

chairs glistening 

in the cool 

and dawning wind, 

facing blindly, 

the blank disc 

of silver grey, 

the hidden hands

of a weakening sun.

August…waits, 

behind the closing 

summer dark.

As the  crows bark 

again, 

and again

following 

the six bells 

still chiming.

Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
[email protected]