By Carolyn Pinet
One ring I still wear for my husband,
gone these twelve years,
yet hardly gone, he continues to linger,
and his smile encircles
my wedding finger.
Two wrestlers in the ring dodge and weave,
yes, two contorted and heaving,
who will carry the day?
But look, it's Noel, now they move
together and embrace a gentle stay.
Here comes number three,
a mystic number if ever I saw one:
three in one, gates fly apart,
angels toot in exaltation while we all sing.
The music rises and the skies ring.
Four peals and I pick up the house phone -
another mad ad? -
another unpaid bill?
But no, I hear a voice from across the miles, repeating.
I'm elated and heartened by a loving greeting.
I hear bells - in my ears or chiming aloft?
Are they sleigh bells, church bells
or cowbells in the field?
But listen, my doorbell rings with Yuletide cheer,
I fling my door wide open to welcome you all here.
"Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,"
five rings, five bells and Christmas is nigh!
Christmastide, 2023