Our Chimes Hang On

 

CHIMES, by Ellouise Schoettler – 5 a New Poem

 

Today I notice the small collection 

of green brass Chimes hanging from a black, failing limb of the tree which has held those chimes for 49 years.

  

After a few years we realized how fast the tree was growing because we had to stretch tall and reach up to make a sound - - - only the wind could stir a song.

 

I sit at my desk these days looking over my computer to where the chimes wiggle in the winds.  In the beginning the chimes were bright green. Today they are all faded.

 

They never broke

They lost their color as they aged

But when the wind is tossing there is still a concert 

And, I love it .

 

My only wish is that Jim was here  

to hold my hand as we walk by.