Once upon a time when the days were brighter and the nights deeper,
when the flowers smelled sweeter
we could stand all day in the rain and not get wet
we would wander down the crashing streams running rils of water falling
ancient lullabies of kings and queens, knights and knaves, and ladies in
the living forest in the bare roots of gnarled trees
happy cracks of laughing rocks
a play ground for whimsy and dreams
the maid eyes closed tightly
could leap from the tallest cliff,
to the water below.
In the dampest molding dungeon,
the alchemist examines his findings,
a life of trying to turn lead into gold
In the tallest teetering tower
the philosopher tries to find meaning
a life of trying to make water from blood
And in the richest embroidered and carved and ornate throne room,
goblins and gnomes and trolls
and other hideous creatures of the dark
pounding and banging to right the wretched room.
On the ramparts shawl wrapped
a one eyed ogress stares over the edges,
looking at the fetid moat below
shall I jump eyes closed she asks
as I did when I was young?
Overhead the winged harpy calls
don’t fly unless your eyes are wide open.
The witch stirs her iron cauldron with a ladle made of copper
The witch stirs the dust with her old straw broom
The witch stirs her soup with a wooden spoon
and as for her yarn, the wheel it turns and it turns.
The wind bangs open
her humble wooden door,
but no it is the king
bow thee down on your knees
as the king puts out his jeweled hand for a kiss
the magic seeps from her
drop by black and oily drop
it smokes sparking gem by sparking gem
Behind the witches green ones
the yellow eyes of the the dragon
The maid, the ogress and the witch congress.
Fealty and Loyalty are not the same
Graciousness is wasted on the profane
With a sigh
the maid bookmarks her devotional
with a grunt
the witch makes a secret mark in her book of spells
with a smile
the ogress stares with her one good eye.
Meanwhile the dragon slips silently slithering
waiting for a turn.