Nature in Precession

 



The water, since coming to rest,
seems taken
with mournful stances.

Its channels, bent
in solemn prayers,
and chance forgiveness,
rippling farewell odes.

A eulogy, can perhaps
be translated
by sleight of hand,
and introspection.

An escadrille of leaves,
only slightly stirs
in the wind’s precession.

It’s unanimous, after all,
the granite says enough,
its stoicism, louder
than any one angel’s cries.