A question,
subsequently, another,
pondering
the solemnity to the passage of days,
as even now riots of tansy, knapweed, Queen Ann's lace
make time decay as much an artifact
as unsubstantiated last
sundown's furtherest gleam, or grossest crackle,
cheep or to-wit-to-woo melange
of what -
bird songs,
grace?
Where goest thou who on another day
was I but am not but now
listed as missing,
yet, rested.
Enough.
A scattering of sounds
and further on, ----ashes.
© Frank C. Praeger 2011
