A bell hangs in the courtyard tower
over the darkened city, waiting to toll.
Where is one who will pull it’s cord
light the cold city lamps
cry out in the shrouded night
to waken those who sleep
as peril creeps
up to the city gates?

In a dream I try
to reach the cord
light the lamps
cry in the night
but fast asleep I lie.

There is a watchman, I have heard,
who haunts the highways and stalks the byways
shaking the locks and rattling the doors
without sleep or dream or play
so I’ve heard, so I say.

She has listened to the tolled bell
sounded down the ages and the empty lanes.
She lights the lamps and cries
during the long and lonely days
sounding deep into the darkening nights.

Portland, Oregon – October 19, 2018

I am small
a part of myself.
I cannot see
all of me.

Birds fly
in the cool morning
through the rain.
I seem to be with them.
How big am I?

I am small.
Tree and mountain
lift themselves high
to be with sun and stars.
Are they, also, I?

I touch leaves and loves
music and madness.
I hold the sun in a heart
that seems to be my own.

How big am I
to hold the sky
the sun and moon
the birds that fly?

Am I small at all
just an autumn leaf
in free fall?
Am I more
than in the mirror
I seem to be?

A star
light years away
said, “I am small.”
I heard it call
in the night
with a voice
that was my own
and was my all.

Portland, Oregon – October 11, 2018

I don’t know the artist or origin of the print I’ve used here.  It comes from a Pinterest post but without credit provided.  I wish I knew.