A father's Funeral.

What the title says, silly.

A cane, from curved spruce,

has carved inside its fleshy wood

a scene of suns. Three white sparks

of many rays, aligned in single row.

 

The third gives up his metal coins,

to see his father rest in bed.

The sec' shows up, a woman's

arm entwined with his.

The first tugs on his velvet tie,

and says those words that cuts

out from them the silken

spider web.

Author's Note

What do you think?