5d (edited) • Poetry
Celebration of the Hours
Beads of sweat collect
on his forehead
eventually dripping into
his eyes and ears
until he laughs, silently,
shaking his head.
Waiting until he hears
the sound of rain,
distantly: a dim ring
on the big brass bell
the choirmaster keeps
ready for him, the quiet
boy, to strike the hour.
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Celebration of the Hours
