The fevered dance of common garden fly
busies about the creaking laburnum;
a mating rite, a dispute over territory.
Taking curious precedence over the crowded daisies
this ritual plays out to an old piano’s opus.
Envious magpies sweep by lacquered ivy;
green and swaying in a summer evenings breeze
the leaves are laminated in a soft, warming light
as playfully they jump to the delicately flecked horizon;
stretching to touch upon the lazy evening cloud.
As the shadows stretch to the hanging pot
and loose brick walls settle for the night
the pale rose trellis lets go its quiet petal,
lingering in an updraft before slipping through the sunset
this morbid waltz is set to the oceans steady rhythm.
Distant, yet strong in its cadence,
this final arpeggio ushers in a funeral bell
that rises up through uninterrupted dusk.
With effort spent this orchestra draws to its end,
the applause has faded and the opera house is closed.
All that remains are the roses offered in adoration,
wilting now and strewn about an empty stage.
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One Comment
I liked this on my 2nd reading. My first reading thought it was dark and bleak, but I was already feeling down when I read it. My second reading thought it was cheery and bright, because I am feeling more upbeat today. The poem does both, combining the vitality of life with the morbidness of a funeral. I like linking the “envious magpies” to the Ivy, “green and swaying.” Nicely done!