Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Monday, June 15, 2020

Sonnet #300

Once I stood in a market square before the town 
Was ready to wake up, and the cathedral rang her bells
I stopped and listened and waited for the chime and swell
To decay, a gorgeous song, a ritual of sound
That marks a city holy; and when it died away
The pigeons cooed again, returned to rafters,
The windows opened up and all that rattled plaster
of the old city shook loose the night's dust and gray
If the bells ring, and no one is there to hear it...?
If there is someone there, who remembers the bells,
But no bells remain, how will the echo bear it?
To stand in the quiet morning, once, to know, to tell.
I swear upon the empty rooms, all music echoes still
The winds of time will carry all sweet whispers down to still

No comments: