a sousaphone
plays three of the lowest,
deepest,
most flabby notes in a triumphant manner,
bllaaaaaaaaaghh, blaaaAAAHHH, BLLLLAAAAAHA
triumph! as the blare lingers
as it airs
resonantly it shatters through
pitch-black with sorrow
disconsolately wrecking your soul
checking the frequency
rumbling in you
like the earth does as its poles
distance themselves from the sun
open your eyes to autumns hues
orange, red, yellow, purple
yet so much green
a reminder
as we reluctantly accept the inevitable
all throughout the garden
white florets
chrysanthemum
bloom
that last bit of nectar is so sweet
bumbling buzzing bee between blanche lips
she is
nestled perfection
thriving thirst as the days begin to cool
covet the petals as the frost and snow
cover and heal the garden
from summer heat
musky pheromones will swell in the heat again
