February Song Poem by Ernest Hilbert

The brash knell of an angry bell choir, clangs
Of a belfry at the height of a hurricane,
Or just a trolley pronouncing its next stop—
She works to fix a worn-out wind chime, hangs
It by a finger so it tolls a haphazard refrain,
All gongs and happy ringing, then lets it drop,
Its song abruptly cut off with a clatter.
It makes me wonder what remaining detours
We have before the end. I do not know
Much, or understand the things that matter,
But this dawn I want to learn. Out-of-doors
A thin rain fastens banks of last night's snow
With ice, sealing soft powder into steel
Casings, freezing a million shapes to one,
Like the memories that make us, and I
Am failing too, like the light that already feels
As if it's fading before the small sun
We can't see has even climbed the sky.