Today is the last
day the magnolias bloom.
Their petals have massed,
ready to fall to their tomb.
Too many days have brought gloom.
Of all that have passed
out of the silvery womb,
today is the last:
the penitent, fast,
gradually-filling-the-room,
shrinking, and vast
day the magnolias bloom.
The eyes of the blast
sprinkled all over the loom,
uneasy and glassed,
ready to fall to their tomb.
People are driven to groom,
however they're classed,
sweeping them up with the broom.
Wherever they're cast,
their petals have massed.
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