Improvisations: Light And Snow: 03

The first bell is silver,

And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time.

The second bell is crimson,

And I think of a holiday night, with rockets

Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars.

The third bell is saffron and slow,

And I behold a long sunset over the sea

With wall on wall of castled cloud and glittering balustrades.

The fourth bell is color of bronze,

I walk by a frozen lake in the dun light of dusk:

Muffled crackings run in the ice,

Trees creak, birds fly.

The fifth bell is cold clear azure,

Delicately tinged with green:

One golden star hangs melting in it,

And towards this, sleepily, I go.

The sixth bell is as if a pebble

Had been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . .

Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.