Maybe it was 
the ring promised
or the ring
that jingle jingle
not to answer 
maybe it was 
the toll in
some off tower
pealing it’s ring
warning of wars
or some catastrophe 
maybe it was 
the ring left
behind on sink
or tub it’s 
the ring that 
stays after everything 
else is gone 

The last went 
I closed shop
cleared out inventory 
and sat quietly 
taking stock nothing 
left now but 
memories some messy 
some pleasant but 
most just memory
memory of days 
and of nights 
and of things 
found and lost 
and very few 
that I kept 

I wish
to be 
the wind
silent and 
always moving 
invisible yet
always touching 
there but
then not 
a curiosity 
and wonderment 

It tinkles 
and twinkles
and finally 
it roars
like rain
or hail
or spring 
to creek
to brook
to river 
and sea
love starts
then finds
and finally 
it disappears 
in the 
cistern heart

Most things 
I imagine 
I imagine 
really are
that aren’t 

monsters hiding 
fears halting
all sorts
of hesitations 
and hiccups 

a slew
and slaw
of could’ve 
would’ve should’ve 
zesty bitters 

pungent hopes
turned into 
hops ending 
in some 
bubbly brew