Church Bells

Roaring lawnmowers shatter
nature's silence and remove
the natural stillness and flow.

Birds flee, scattering, leaping
from tree to tree.
One lone bird remains ever
present on top the church
where the cross would be and shouts,
cries, warbles to be heard
and somewhere else, from somewhere
I can't see, something answers back.

Everything is disjointed.
Even the rabbit waits for me,
hops a few feet away,
turns its head and stares
and I feel like Alice for a moment
wondering where I might be led.

But even then,
even with the rumble of the lawnmowers
thrumming through the ground,
the hanging hibiscus swings
back and forth,
back and forth,
in silence, like nature's own church bells.

And I remember God is found
in the silence,
in the stillness,
in the whispers, though the rest
of the world roars.