Sydney's Black Swan

A hand from heaven passes

my soul a blanky

and a steel mug

of warmed cocao

to comfort,

as a rich and ruddy necterine

sunset lingers in a swelling tear

back, grounded by extending charcaol smudge:

the lightyears we've traversed

Between us stands matt black frame,

a scaffold of urbane:

the industrial-strength web

of wisdom you're leaving behind

as legacy for your clan
 
I hope we do justice

to the inherritance of your grace

and fill this quick cooling space

with more of the same

beyond your passing