This entry is part 22 of 55 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2012


Of brass and iron, of bronze or bell metal, a house
within which the clapper might sound— What slips

into the wind, sometimes slight as a prayer?
A warbler’s call before it fades,

the curl of incense bearing the names
of all we’ve lost, all we seek—

Hour upon hour is struck: diligent notes that echo
to the yoke and crown, to the waist and lip—


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← RitualsRift →

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.