Bells at Eleven

Tho’ I’m a Catholic
I hardly listen to the bells
in the freshly white tower
over our old church

confidently ringing truth—
absolute truth,
mysterious truth—
ring clear, ring faithful

I am satisfied
with half-understandings;
clarity saps the joy
from beautiful things

ring in, sure bells,
the butcher and the taker
ring in and out the son
ring in the eleven o’clock mass

when old men from Passenack
drop to swollen knees,
knuckles white in prayer—
ring, ring, ring!

February 5, 2026