Daily Archives: March 10, 2018

Royalty eh?…

*

The king finished scrutinising his appearance in the full length mirror with a satisfying ‘gurgle’.

His royal tailor had done an altogether splendid job of ‘ironing out’ the few minor discrepancies of attire which had been picked up at the first fitting…

It was, decided the king, now perfect!

All that remained to be done… was to wait.

The crowds were already pouring into the capital from all four corners of the realm.

The minstrels and street entertainers had been plying their trade since before the early hours.

The advance guard of flag wavers would soon be pressing their features to the railings which surrounded the royal palace.

‘They enjoy waiting’, thought the king, ‘it adds to the suspense. Even in the rain, and one ought really to be fully rested before such an event. One should take a little nap. It would hardly matter if one overslept. One would not want to be early after all.’

So, as the subjects of his realm were readied for his illustrious arrival, the king slept.

And slept on…

The king was awoken from his slumber by a frenzied knocking on the heavy oak door of his dressing room.

A hideous dream he had experienced, about wily weavers, and a hard to fool child.

He caught a glimpse of his own form in the mirror as he rushed to the door to open it, and that glimpse confirmed his nightmare.

As the door was flung open the palace butler looked at the royal features aghast.

“Call the guards,” said the king, “someone has stolen my dress suit!”

Enduring Crows

Sun in Gemini

Crows in winter tree finalAA

At Winter’s end

In lows of March

A friend said: watch the crows

It’s fanciful, he said

But wise, and came from one who knows.

⦿

Far below the nest

that swayed, I wandered

With streaming eyes to field beyond

Where two dark shapes

Carved the air on frozen pond.

⦿

Mere hair’s width from the icy death

A swooping, chasing joy

A courtship rash and bold their only care

Pulled upwards to the virgin moon

In winds that to a human bring despair

⦿

The tears within my eyes

Bled no emotion, save of chill

The precision of their love against the icy sky

A perfect union in pursuit of which

I find my head and heart of words run dry

⦿

Later, as the darkness

Gathered frozen black in Winter’s arms

I watched the rocking of the nests that must

In our tall trees

And relearned all I…

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