Webs spun in bitter March winds

land on shoulders brushing by

fragile limbs fragmenting

their bones, brittle as white collar starch

Dust to ashes on cashmere coats

warmed by comfort in death

Outside, horses and carriage

await the parade on asphalt streets

strewn with lavender posies

red, pink and champagne roses

a shower of confetti free-falling

as if thrown from spirit

standing on the rainbow bridge.