Eulogy for the Wee Folk

In your simplest veil
or your jeans and twilight eyes,
succumb to the slow swirl
of the autumn stream.
Your feet mark a path
down the bank,
through the trees
as a dry rustle,
a distant pyre crackling.

Bathe in your wedding gown,
baptize and consecrate yourself
in the waters.
You filter dusk
from the dark creek bed,
waters filtered clear
through your ornamental lace
reflective of daylight,
inlaid with the heavens.

Up the bank, beyond the trees,
your friends yearn to see you,
the wee folk in your fairy court.
Their harp strings lie silent now.

The butterfly flees
through the bone-white grasses of the field.
The yellow rose inebriates the air
only at night.
“We two shall meet… shall meet…,”
the coarse voice of a peacock
trailing its elusive hues in the evening sun
when the nut-brown girl smiles
with the sunset shining in her eyes.

© 1978, me (in memoriam to a friend (September 29, 1958, to October 9, 1978))

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Author: makingsenseofcomplications

I have an academic background in literature and, separately, science. My career has been in industry in positions of increasing responsibility assisting in the drug development process - one of the most amazing intellectual pursuits of the human mind, among many other amazing intellectual pursuits. I am interested in films, philosophy, history, art, music, science (obviously), literature (also obviously), some video gaming, human behavior, and many other topics. I wish there was more time in every day because we have a world that is full of amazing phenomena that are considered too superficially by too many. Although my first and last names are fictional, I think I believe in all of the stuff you read here, although I retain the right in perpetuity of changing my thoughts about anything written herein.

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