A Duel Amongst Flowers

They dance in a cyclone of violet;
the petals rip off their antlers
and slide from the swift motion.
The dancers move as if on a breeze
that carries the clatter of hooves and antlers.
It is silent, hot as the sirocco
and cool as the wind that carries the aurora
in the flash of the startled butterflies.
The flowers fall around them, but are lifted up
as they rear, swayed by the motion of their bodies.
Their antlers rise, their heads lower --
Somehow, they scratch the heavens and the earth
and bring to them the scent of falling flowers.