Church Bells
I doubt that you are hearing what I hear,
That you have noticed that the washer's
Running, something's bubbling on
The stove. I know that you'd think
That these sounds are meaningless,
Beneath your notice, but, to me, they're
Church bells ringing. In the absence
Of the dreadful music I must hear at work,
The TV's awful blare, the children's whining,
Those sweet sounds I'm hearing now are
Fertile soil from which poetry can grow.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2025-02-02 at 00:54




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