The Cowbells of Easter
National Poetry Month/Poem a Day
Small finger bells peal forth
Each Easter Sunday,
Joyful tintinnabulations
Of celebration
In our humble parish.
My mischievous middle son
Found a cowbell,
Ringing it firmly
Adding a firm bass
To the small bells’ soprano.
Our priest,
A really nice guy,
Found all the cowbells,
Hid them,
Possibly to encourage more decorum in church.
But.
In the immortal words
Of the great philosopher,
Christopher Walken,
“More cowbell. It needs more cowbell.”
So I found an app
That simulates a credible cowbell
And, in honor of mischievous middle son,
I ring it
Each Easter morn.
Our good natured priest
Shakes his head,
Gives me
THE LOOK
That says men my age should know better,
And I should.
But joyful
Mild misbehaving
Has kept me coming back to church
For six decades.
And to show respect
For our priest,
Whom I genuinely admire,
I no longer sing the Gloria
In the voice of Elmer Fudd.
About the Creator
Chuck Etheridge
Novelist, Teacher, Transplanted West Texan, Reluctant Poet
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