Home-Town Sabbath
On Sunday mornings Seven belfries
Cleared their throats.
The air was shattered
As pigeons scattered
In aimless flight.
When silence once more
Was resumed, the skies
Seemed suitably chastened.
Respective worshipers
Fared forth to pray and sing
And hear the truth proclaimed
In familiar ritual.
As for the other six
Churches, one had to admit
That seven bells set free
Commingled joyously
On Sunday mornings.