Wreath

by Colin Whyles

Villanelle for Amanda Goosby, 1958-2017

What permit lets your light dim like your wreath,
its petals withered, blanching as they curl,
however short our time, or long the grief?

Will shaman enter in, steeped in belief,
to calm the raging storm when in a whirl?
What permit lets your light dim like your wreath:

whatever is its purpose – as a thief?
Can your banner not continue to unfurl
however short our time, or long the grief?

Where can a beggar turn to take relief
when fate has intervened to steal his pearl?
What permit lets your light dim? Like your wreath,

your colours and your fragrance were so brief
this year has passed so fast, all in a swirl;
However short our time, or long the grief,

however dull this garland, now, beneath
its surface, sorrow twists into a knurl;
What permit lets your light dim like your wreath,
However short our time, or long the grief?

Copyright © 2020 Colin Whyles