Stupefying Dead

The morning mist hung about
Even in the dead noon
Lending a pale glower
To something otherwise relentless
A silk of gossamer
Over the burnt folds of flesh
To an otherwise stupefying morning

The din over the court
Slightly numbing and foolish
Ladies preening men fawning
Like foxes out to hunt
In the season of summer

Cheap card capers over yonder
Flashing around dazzling ladies blind
Only a fool would buy
A stone that sells for a ruby

The foolishness of it all
Praying to something
That exists only in their minds

Now they may seem
Terribly proud and important
Wait till the flowers
Fall on a dark bough
And they will know
Truth of it all