On the day of Rhian's service
the Manchurian pears glowed against lagoon skies
ablaze
                 with teeming white   
a-snow 
                  with open promise
so ache-swelling their exquisite burst of exuberance
all eyes travelled the length of them        again              
again---again---again
the season's first mosquitoes floated soft like breeze-bourne seeds –
shy filigree wafting on bright
while sunlight stroked away all weary unhappiness
till all re-discovered a kind of innocence on that day the day when Rhian

was interred