The Bells of Filene’s
© 2017 Vernon Miles Kerr
Any Boston afternoon,
Downtown Crossing’s canyons
Surge with cars and shoppers.
Walk-Don’t Walk,
Thousands of feet shuffle.
Screeching on Red,
Honking on Green,
Buses and Ducks
Trailing smokescreens.
A faint tinkle penetrates
The cacophony.
The City pauses,
Takes a breath,
And listens.
The Bells of Filene’s
Fill the Washington Street gorge.
Scent of mown grass off the Common.
Waft of wok oil out of Chinatown.
Seagulls squawk above
Tranquility wrested out of chaos.
The Bells finish an Etude.
The action resumes.