Bell

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Yesterday
I caught a glimpse
of my reflection
in a window,

an old, white-haired person
I did not recognize.

But the person
inside,
an ageless bell,
leapt like the hare
we saw this morning on our walk
far above our heads

and sent its
resonance of rapture
out across
the snow-covered mountains
as the wind
began to shape it.

15 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

15 responses to “Bell

  1. Ethel this is simply beautiful!

    AndI can relate to it in so very many ways too. ๐Ÿ™‚

    Love

    Christine xx

  2. Wonderful

    I can so well recognise the person at the heart of this poem *wry smile*

    David

  3. I liked the whole thing, particularly the play on the word “bell”. ๐Ÿ™‚

  4. I realized I was getting older when the woman looking back at me from my mirror was my mother. She was an amazing woman who raised her three children with love, compassion, wisdom and wisdom.

  5. Elizabeth Herron

    This is so very lovely. Thank you Ethel.

  6. Caddo Veil

    Wonderful, Ethel–when I look in the mirror, I know I’m so much more than what I see there. Love, Caddo

  7. Sonja

    You are still my beautiful mom forever!

  8. Anna Mark

    An ageless bell, indeed! Beautiful.

  9. Ethel, I love this and can relate to it! We’re ageless, playful spirits on the inside, no matter what the mirror reflects.

  10. Ban all reflective surfaces, as per Queen Elizabeth’s edict…

  11. And the “e” at the end. You are too modest, Ethel. ๐Ÿ™‚

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