Burial

The light
reflects off the concrete,
onto the undercarriage
of a shuttlecock fern,
pond drippings play Fs and G minors
a rose reaches,
smattered in thorns,
to become celestial,
a part of the constellation
it's ever denied.
Stars do not grace us,
muddied , encased in an overcast scene.
Loose strife continues,
unyielding to wind
nor to rain
nor to the decaying that continues,
relentless within her marrow.
A mirrorball catches shadows,
and the sky, she rains
as if bereft or relinquishing,
or nursing roots
as we all turn to darkness,
let rest sing in our bones.