The creek's water stopped flowing arcing to reach outside its bed and up against the pear tree, Ringing the pears where bells lacked place. The tree vibrated and convulsed, its fruit chiming like the touch of ice to ice and clanging as brass to brass, and the noise gushed to the ground, flooding the lands around, twinkling a sweet chaos of pear bell rivulets of sound. The sonorous arm of water, succeeding its ravishing racket of the pears, retreated to the creek bed shores. During the ringing, two animals attended the tree, mute, two hours. But after the buoyant raccoon scaled the Pear tree and knocked a pear to the ground, the heron knew in the black feathers of its crown that stickycrisp secrets of ancestors would blossom. The pear relieved its pliant yellow skin on the dirt, which watched, amorally, Everything above it. Dropping its skin revealed its twelve-natured lunar pubis: The first still dizzy from the plunge to Earth, styled itself a young mynah with no eyes. The second ate licorice and water but drank slower than a mature ocean. The third claimed a mischief of paper cuts, greater than three is always a mischief. The fourth looked big as the lead cames in a window of Arctic islander glass. The fifth wriggled its toes into the dirt, unconcerned with the hour. The sixth became a ripe plum— Elsewhere distant bells, deflating like the end times, let go of their peels. The seventh rowed frantically as though pulling pushing oars gathering wind, and in the current, herons. The eighth, in a frenzy that raised furious foams of celebration, strummed its Slavic harp. The ninth spoke in words known only to lovers that expose their hearts through the railings of broken ribs. The tenth believed it could silken a foundation to outlast the deep lulling August heat. The eleventh collapsed upon itself, exhausted in single-minded worship. The twelfth obsessively tapped the splitting, dropping skins of the yellow pear bell and cried to their glistening sweetness. The creek water (turned tepid glass of endless ash) reflected raccoon and heron. The raccoon circled its eyes from the spent pear to the heron, which maneuvred its beak and elegantly speared the yellow pear skin. Dousing all twelve, the raccoon handled each into its mouth. Sunlight weaved through the pear tree's glowing green leaves. The fruit sated each creature as silence landed its imminence.