Village life

The Church Bells

The church bells toll across the meadows,


SIgnifying the time;


A succession of musical chimes that people barely notice,

As they have become accustomed to the ringing.


The village is planted near a river,


In a valley where locals have dwelt for centuries,


Eating, living, worshipping and dying, 


Their descendants carrying on the name, year after year.


A village static but alive, surrounded by hills and ascending paths.


The church bells ring.

View lozzamus's Full Portfolio

The Village Gate

The gate stands by a field that leads down the slope to a river.


The gate opens with a creak, its wood rough after years of use.


From the gate, one can see the water, smooth, almost silent,


A steady stream that is always there,


A faithful friend, like the creaking gate.

View lozzamus's Full Portfolio