The Rounding of the Wave
Ringed in the shadow of death,
The old men peer at one another,
And at the pigeons pecking grain,
Cock-sure, avid, iridescent.
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Iridescent
In the aura of youth-
Firmly I come against them
Here in the half-light, grumbling.
They have loved life,
Like Joachim his fiddle:
Death be the coming of a friend,
The folding of a flower,
The rounding of a wave.
Structure
14 lines · 3 stanzas