oglethorpe chimes

sounding chimes loudly
count off the hours and quarters
proclaiming each time

their own concreteness
even as the moments onward
pass into nothing

clearer in winter
those bells though through the summer
they chided me working

slowly too slowly
for their taste ever urgent
time goes on we stop

someday far too soon
for all that we could hope for
will halt and then we

will not be and our
memories will soon be gone
and the bells will chime

others will hear them
not thinking of those who
had listened before