Female worker bees are working long hours
gathering autumn nectar for the colony’s winter.
Like me, they’re storing carbohydrates and protein
for when they stay inside, although unlike
bees, I hope not to die there.
Here, under the trees, there’s no sunlight,
only shade from moonlight which invites shades –
ghosts from Hades, if stories are true.
I have come here to meet one
who can tell me what to expect.
Autumn’s not colored foliage or apple picking.
For some, a harvesting or hunting Moon.
Acorns falling like a broken clock tick-tocking.
“Eulogy” in Greek means a “good word,”
quietly spoken for things and people gone.
Wax or plaster cast of a face.
A primitive, accurate photo without a camera.
Memento, or basis for a later portrait.
Eerily real, every feature, with some distortions
from the weight of plaster and death.
Death mask of the poet Dante Alighieri who wrote The Divine Comedy. He died September 13, 1320 from malaria.
A funeral rime for one who considered
spirits, drugs and zombies in his life
and whose remains in a lead coffin
journeyed from chapel to church wine cellar.
Toast a blood-red wine to his life.
PHOTO ILLUSTRATION BY ELIZABETH BROCKWAY/THE DAILY BEAST
Read more: smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/poet-samuel-taylor-coleridges-casket-rediscovered-former-wine-cellar-180968811/