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Today I made a little shepherds pie,
And today you’ll make this little shepherd cry!

Chimes remembered…

Ancient bells from ancient steeples ring,
Sing the croaked song of yore to beckon,
Heckled by the crow and car-horn black,
Attacks the silence that ambles down the lanes,
And so on turns to field.

Tidy summer Sunday, lawns are clipped,
Nipped and tucked we cheerioed to church.
Lurching and laughing we ran and kicked a stone,
The stone that flew and scored the winning goal.

So ring the changes but don’t ever change a jot,
Blot, spot, hop skip and jump.
Like unalarming car alarms hardly heard,
Weave like threads of gold through tapestries of sound,
And so on back in time.

So ring the changes but never change the rings,
But bring out the dead and don’t eschew the new.

© David Johnson, October 2009