21st September
They were all in mourning that morning.
The beetle scurrying across the cooling sands
sombrely dressed in total black
for the occasion.
They were all in mourning that morning.
The sea daffodils had lost their candid silk
leaving purses of jetty seeds
as their bequethal.
They were all in mourning that morning.
The woeful hawkers from much harsher lands
left without takers for tawdry trinkets
just wistful pearly smiles.
They were all in mourning that morning.
The dusky snaketail slithering reedwise
ebony coots with widows' peaks
in the pewter creek.
They were all in mourning that morning.
Sable swan with eyes redrimmed from tears
but bold scarlet mouth
once proudly flaunted.
For the death of summer
they were all in mourning that morning.
kJ Walker
Sun 5th Nov 2017 18:06
I really thought it was going to be a person that they were all mourning. I did like the descriptions.
Only this week I was speaking to a lady who was recently widowed, she was convinced that a new star came out on the day of her husband's death, and only reappears on the anniversary
I liked the poem by the way, especially the first line
Cheers Kevin