The bustle of bells pronounce Sunday magic;
Full peal across the bright pastel space,
Where pale sea meets busy harbour,
Hazy sky meets jewelled balloons
And conversations murmur and burble.
Sounds rising and falling,
Interlacing in an endless swirl of persistent rhythmic clouds,
Echoing the multitude of percussive noon bells across the city.
Appealing to each other like friends in friendly greeting.
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