Narcissus-X Meditates on a Pleading Fly

Flowers. Cold flowers. Snow flowers. Floral patterns of ice.

Crystalline curves of colorless beauty.

Beauty dripping down the window, sill stained with damp tears.

Deceased fly with pleading feet, awash.

Delicate film of varnish and dust, disturbed.

Fly, dead on cold sill
Shining wings still, legs aloft
Mute witness of fall

The Mandrake's Mandarin mutters in dark futility while ravens of prophecy cry aloft. Do ferrets cry in vain? Must muskrats wallow in delusion? Do swirling gnats bewail autumnal advents?

How different, gelid window and grotto of velvet coal. Yet, how alike.

Narcissus-X perpends on walls and windows, darkness and light.