The Church Bells

The church bells toll across the meadows,


SIgnifying the time;


A succession of musical chimes that people barely notice,

As they have become accustomed to the ringing.


The village is planted near a river,


In a valley where locals have dwelt for centuries,


Eating, living, worshipping and dying, 


Their descendants carrying on the name, year after year.


A village static but alive, surrounded by hills and ascending paths.


The church bells ring.

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Morningglory's picture


This writing is beautiful

Copyright © morningglory

lozzamus's picture

Thanks very much,

Thanks very much, hopefulwoman.

S74rw4rd's picture

What an incredibly attractive

What an incredibly attractive description of an idyllic place.


lozzamus's picture

Many thanks, Jan9th. 

Many thanks, Jan9th. 

S74rw4rd's picture

My pleasure.  The poem

My pleasure.  The poem actually reminds me of a couple episodes of The Twilight Zone, in which there is an escape to an idyllic place.