Looking Backward Poem by Bernard Henrie

An old September, impeccable.
Guests in white shoes,
a lawn party seven years ago.

Scent on the air, maybe posies
drying on a tray; face powder,
pomade deep as black purple.

Voices across the emerald pool,
a line of Adirondack chairs;
scones centered on a linen cloth.

The diving board’s flat timbre
after a swimmer's final catapult;

the clipped grounds, croquet court;
rouged guests move to the baths
like Japanese figures.

Mottled shade, a subdued afternoon.
The three man combo disappears.
Ja Da.

The droll Airedale taken home
now seven years ago.