Bells

by Lynne Thompson

Give in to your inner goat. Do not say I am not a goat.

Do not say I have only two legs. You give milk, run with

herds, graze. Remove the latch on your mind. Baaa

in moonlight even though you will be shorn or stuffed

at a time you have not chosen. Cold days will come

no matter how many bells you wear around your neck.

Taking the long way over the meadow? Doesn’t matter.

You’ll reach an ivied rail where there is no way over, no

way through. This isn’t anti-climax. This is the tolling.