Mirielle

Mirielle

Nothing gives her more delight
Than to watch the seasons shift.
Long days of Summer--the warm, the bright--
Give way to the coming brisk wind's drift.

She smiles when leaves fall,
Turn yellow, orange from luxuriant green.
Dry, brittle shells blanket all
And tree branches blown bare, suddenly clean.

Then bushes follow the trees' lead.
Open fields went withered brown.
Wilting process--every flower and weed--
When overcast grey clouds loom around.

In her red wool hooded cape, the caramel-colored lady meets a cooler clime,
Walks past standing tombs, faces one with a familiar name, then
Recalls her glory days in Treme--Antebellum time--
When her mother threw lavish parties, shown her off to wealthy White men.

Dark cholera struck New Orleans and the escaping riverboats.
With the rich on-board, she perished--saw neither Heaven nor Hell.
Among us, she returns every Autumn as a wandering ghost.
Lonesome Miss Dupree. First name: Mirielle.

Author: Dee Allen

Photo: Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash