Dry Wishbone in an Empty Bell Tower ...

Dry Wishbone in an Empty Bell Tower ...

The nakedness of winter lies upon

the tolling Sunday quietude

Shed  leaves perish into yesterday

and the dream of another

dawning  someday wanes

The sun ― lay low

the drudging  ashen  skyline  

Disrobed emerald moss scaffolds

draw much more distantness

to the pallid shadowed horizon

The evergreens step forth,

 roots grasping sacred heart ,

soil  and  rock

In the swelling aloneness

you can feel the grain

of  the  heartwood

rooted in your soul

There are no hard feelings

 but there's an enduring ache ,

like a tree with a rotting limb

languishing  within

its blackened bark sacrifice

It's not just the grinding time

 that slips away begrudgingly ;

more of the same takes a toll 

as if another unrung belfry hour

in an empty bell tower

 without a song rang out in vain ,

peeling  reflections
of reluctant hours  c r a w l  by

in the insensible lethargy

A so called holiday passes ―

its footprint ***bears down***

hard  and  deep

as if a paling winter rose

grieves its own passing

A dry wishbone unbroken

lay bare the poignant

 truth  it  holds ;

it takes two to make

this wish come true 

Written by :  Harlon Rivers
© 11. 26. 2017