Olivet

Olivet

beautiful

solitude

dark dead leaves on the wet grass

patchouli pungent

fragrance this little spot of earth

heaven is marred by 

moldering flowers

crumbling 

running sticky 

faded confetti fragments

to the moss vibrantly green

hugging the carved surfaces

highlighting the black letters on the stone's front

gray heaving fog

floats

carnival like through Colma's streets

filming the windows of the crematory

blowing through cypress trees 

and driving their arms 

down

to circle frozen 

in their own danse macabre

watched only by the angel

head bent 

in silent grief

Copyright 1991 Louise Ann Stowell - All Rights Reserved