“Time and the bell have buried the day,
The black cloud carried the sun away.”

            —T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton, “The Four Quartets”

The bell rings, and rings as the
Night promises the snow, the snow
To fall at blizzard strength to envelop
The brown earth in its solemn sleep.

O yes, this promise of time present
Buries the world in a white cloud
To picture time future in its pure
Form, a Paradise of purity.

But the dark earth is ever with us
To make us listen, to the bell,
The bell ringing to call the snow;
We must ever be attentive.

Attentive to hear the Word that
Whistles in the stern wind, ranging
Around the corner of my world,
Calling me to a future time.

Words like this speak in a
Different way to say, to say
No words can tell of time future
Fully, for eye hath not seen.