The peacock’s calling
at falling dusk
reminds us
without mercilessness
of ubiquitous finality

The peacock’s calling
at falling dusk
displaying his feathery fan
in a garden mysterious
is a memento mori

The peacock’s calling
at falling dusk
deplorable staccato
moisturised smells
from ground and river

The peacock’s calling
at falling dusk
sends us
to the honey lit mansion
to dine and red wine

The peacock’s calling
at falling dusk
carrying through thin panes
provides consolation
finality is far-off