A slender shaft of light that pierces the gap
where the curtains can’t quite close, just at the top,
a shimmering of sun, a dappling upon the wall …
succeeds, at last, and casts back sleep.
Bells!
In rising then descending peals, time upon time
they flock, and break, and slide.
Time and time again they reel,
in tumbling, falling, thrilling flight.
And close by the window seagull shadows wheel and glide,
their calls cascading down the scale
in soulful imitation of the distant, dreamy, singing bells.
Then laughter, clear and fair,
and the glorious sound of female voices from downstairs,
in communion with the most alluring incense known to man:
bacon, frying in the pan.
From ‘Welsh Past and Present’
© 2023 Dafydd Hughes Lewis. All rights reserved. 
Oh, that’s lovely. I particularly like the detail of the gap in the curtains and the cadences of the poem imitating the sound of the bells. I can hear the voices and smell the bacon, too!
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Thank you, Jacydo! A real memory, there.
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You paint such glorious pictures with your words, Dafydd. I was there.
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Thank you, Viv! Nothing like the carillon of bells, the mewing of gulls, and the aroma of bacon to awake to on a Sunday morning … 🙂
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Brings back some nice childhood memories of St. David’s! I’ll always remember the magical sound of seagulls and cathedral bells in the morning.
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Thank you, Cicymru. Yes, the gulls and bells combined to make an indescribable symphony. Then there was the bacon … 🙂
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Beautiful evocative imagery bringing back so many years of memories – then the lovely commonplace, chuckle-inducing final line. You hit all the senses, but mostly I can hear the bells and seagulls, and, oh yes, I can smell that delicious frying bacon.
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Thank you, Roma. Memories of one particular morning in the days of yore …
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Da iawn . Very evocative , I can still hear the church bell of my childhood if I listen carefully.
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Diolch, Dafydd. Church bells – what a wonderful sound. I’d love to hear them again.
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I truly savoured this with all my senses Dafydd, a delightful dreamlike awakening punctuated by joyous bells and the anticipation of that heavenly breakfast below stairs. I was dazzled by your imagery!
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Thank you, Gill! I remembered that particular morning with the sunlight, bells, gulls, downstairs preparations and bacon; it was a nice awakening. I think I wrote it down as a way of remembering all such similar mornings, particularly of bells and gulls – marvellously reciprocating sounds and indelible memories of that west Wales coastal village. The bells are gone, now, except for special occasions – the result of incomers’ complaints.
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