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