Jason Morgan: ‘Happiness’ and ‘The Bells’

Happiness

Spring is here on yellow wings, wrapped in blue skies
the beasts behold when surfacing from tombs
as do fresh flowers who smile with light.

The sun wears his crown with longer pride
and fled is raging winter winds while lightning
clashes swords in clouds deliquescing in tears.

Then the Phoenix opens once more its wings,
for fire seethes when ash blows away
to bequeath us birds and longer days,

and trees turn green from their trunks to their scalps,
but April who welcomes Spring shall take away
the majesty of snowfall-crowning alps.

Jason Morgan

The Bells

In the black tower’s chamber, bells wait for
the horses to raise dust. The sexton will
pull the rope, until the universe
echoes with the clatter of restored
chaos. For life lives on death, sure as the
brass bells swing from north to south at dawn.

On the plain, the hooves rumble, and falling
autumn leaves divide the sky, just as the
knell breaks the air, a home, older than earth.
And though the world fades before…