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Brenda walked up to the belfry
At 6:15
The cold air blew through the tower as she climbed
Golden beams of sunlight shone on the bells

Brenda stepped out of her shoes
At 630
Cold bricks under her bare feet
Acres of snow on frosted fields far below

The pastor stared up into the morning blue sky
At 6:45
Blinking at both glare and the sight
Of a single silhouette, far above him, standing on the ledge

Don’t jump, he said
At 6:55
His words echoed in the tower and across the yard
Scattering flocks of birds

I won’t jump, Brenda whispered
At 7:01
As the bells chimed, near and far
I’ll fly (and she did)

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