When the petals fall
We will gnash our teeth and wail
Falling like confetti
Into freshly hewn coffins
Silenced. The vapour-streaked skies
Returned once more to the drone of flies,
The staccato cries of seagulls,
The lengthening rays of warmer days
On the hot earth
The scampering paws will barely pause
To the sound of lamentations
To those fallen before their time
When the fruits fall beneath the rustling leaves
Will we pause and bow before the plentiful earth,
And be minded of the harvested sheaves
The silent reaper bequeaths?
The book of condolences
Lies open among the fallen leaves -
Might that the worms take our offering.
Upon Remembrance may we remember
Our place in the natural order of things.
As it was in the beginning,
And shall forever be,
World without end.
Amen
Ode to Cycling 