Tolling bells walked us through hallowed hours
while sun and I kept leisured pace with time,
as through by courtesy of bells we claim
time as ours. Light itself was washed by rain
on Christmas eve. Time, heedlessly, neglects
its vastness—steps serene to measured tolls.
Space, swollen to full, sways as one elect,
at tilt of bell, with sun and monks to stroll.