The Belfry Burns against the Black

The Belfry burns against the ceaseless black above
A bright black, draped like heavy curtains that were cast off the fading arms of a dying sun

The Belfry’s skin of ancient stone cuts apart the raven cloth above,
Its immensity unearthed and erected centuries before the clacking of heavy hooves,
before the sharp ring of phones were pulled from pockets,
before the sweet aroma of warm waffles circled the town square

This towering safeguard shoulders that inky veil above,
Holding it back for those scurrying at its steadfast feet
Keeping time for cheerful throngs dining on beef stew and bitter beer and friendly conversations

As the bells of the Belfry sing along with the constant and copious discourse

© Mike Yost