The Bell

High at the window, the bell does sway, Beneath the tempest, its resonant heart, Drumming its whispers against the gray, It calls to the world, no words can depart.

This sound, it trembles among the trees, Soft moss underfoot, guiding our way, A thundering echo of nature’s decrees, Summoning whispers to greet the day.

Let the bell know the pause between storms, In that stillness is refuge — return. Each ring expands in pure gentleness, Awakens our hopes beneath the fern.

• Rainer Maria Rilke