Each day, the magnolia tree drops more flowers
The ground below dusted with the faint whitish purple petals
And I greet the sculpted form of the tree,
Set, as it is, beside a landscaped waterfall and a bubbling fountain
The faintest nostalgia for bygone days and bygone lives discretely bubbling down
All of this is tucked behind a funeral home’s flawless Victorian facade
The staff wave or speak a greeting, whether they are washing a car,
Prepping the lot for a visitation or going about some other business.
I cut through their grounds on my afternoon and evening treks –
On business of my own.
There is a wisdom in their greetings, and in my own,
Soon our business, too, will be done and the magnolia will drop down
Petals in remembrance of all of our springs