The electric bells in the tower ring
across the pond to the hollow tune of
“O Come Thou Fount” as they do
every Sunday morning at ten o’clock.
The trees yawn into the autumn sky.
Four geese let themselves fall gently
into the waiting November water
rippling out and away from them.
The false bells finish their dingy tune.
The echo hangs for a moment before
dissolving into gray. Nothing now but
an ecstatic flutter of wet feathers.
Everyone is asleep or at church. Or
both. But God isn’t taking attendance.
Here at the edge of the autumn pond
the geese don’t need my gaze to fly.
Michael Julian Arnett’s work has appeared in Queen Mob’s Tea House, HARK, Empty Mirror, The Altar Collective, and the EEEL. He is editor at large for Cyberhex and an MFA candidate at Pacific University. He lives in Northern California.