It's the bells

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We are singing Christmas
these days, of course,
choirs and ensembles
lift their voices to holy
this time of year. We tune
we harmonize legato
staccato, the choreographer
tells us to look up
“At the bells,” she gestures
and we look up
at the pipes and wiring
of our rehearsal hall.
We send glory
to the highest
and the bass section
rumbles, ding dong.
We start in October
rediscovering the red binders
the jingling sleighs
the fa la la la las
and so much snow,
the notes, falling
on our upturned faces.
The director holds us there
one long chord
then drops his hands.
I exit to the parking lot
where rain and wind have
blown leaves
across my windshield.
It’s the bells
that carry me home.