Bells of Remembrance

The wind swirled about the door,
riling up the leaves, 
whistling in the eaves,
and bending the branches of the trees.
A dirt path stretched ahead,
green grass beside, 
clad in liquid light.
I left the stone house 
and walked, 
to know the breeze and sunshine.
Soon the wind quieted, 
clouds covered the sky.
I heard only my thoughts 
and padding steps
until starting at the sound 

of tolling bells.
Their ringing resounded in the air,
palpable in my whole body,
and I shivered with a strange electricity.
It was fall, and ripening time,
but past grapes were not present wine,
and home was far away. 

Edited version, 7/4/14

***

The wind swirled about the door,
riling up the leaves, whistling in the eaves,
and bending the branches of the trees.
A path stretched before me in rustic brown,
green beside, all in liquid light clad.
I tiptoed along the trail, hearing nothing but gold,
proving the truth in the cliché old.
Then the silence was compounded by wish of the wind,
it dropped off quickly,
so something else could begin.
I was in a reverie, meditating on things past,
at which point, starting, I heard the tolling of bells vast.
Their solemn sound was palpable on the air,
resonating in head and heart, sending shivers up my spine.

Original version, 2002