Why do I turn away?
Centerpiece of this bright day,
A Far Hills fete: “The Steeple Chase”.
Autumn brilliance sets the stage:
Whilst grassy-tracked steeds sling muddy sod,
Orange-framed oval, strewn with spectators.
Trumpet’s blare calls to all: “ta ra ta da”!
I focus not on race or chase.
I choose instead a steeple;
Back-dropped by brilliant, cerulean blue-sky canvas.
Siena-shingled dome, chalk-washed silo, copper-crackled cupola;
Structures from a century past.
Their purpose, now belied by single steely spline.
Peaceful purity punctuated by techno-times.