F I F E T E E N

Now on the road
From high to low,
From forest deep to glade,

The giant surged
Until a verge
Of low fields flowed their way.

“Lo, heed you men”
He said to them,
“And maiden of the trees,

We’re at the bound
Of open ground,
And it’s affinities.

“Its light is strong,
Its distance long,
Its weather plentiful,

But most of all
Its colours fall
From heaven’s sentinel.

So hide thine eyes
Until they dry,
Or you’ll a fever get,

And we’ve no time
To wipe the lime
Your woodland skin will sweat”

And so they tipped,
By toe and drip,
Out of the forest fence;

A serpent slow
As it could go,
Until het up of sense.

But as their eyes
Accustomised
To exposed land, they saw,

Wild bands of men
Who, unlike them,
Had rushed the woodland door.

Then unannounced
The sullen scout
Collapsed unto her knees,

“Oh poor sots
They’ve gone and got
What once afflicted me”

“Be quelled your dread”
The giant said,
“For if you speak the truth,

Those sickly wrecks
May us, detect,
And part us from our youth”

And so as quiet,
And compliant,
As those in honeycomb,

They held their noise,
And crossed the void,
Before their foes pressed home.

And later on
As sunlight shone
Its last on their first day,

Six new exiles
Were still beguiled
By night and its brocade;

Whilst giant hands
Passed pots and pans,
And filled them with a stew,

Which was swilled down,
‘Til fully drowned,
By a thick and sickly brew.
* * * *
The rolling morn
Saw them adorned
In all its finest froth,

So our young lad
Upraised his dad,
And bathed him in its broth.

And neither sage
Nor scout engaged
In formal morning play,

And soldiers too,
Stuck by its glue,
Could not be turned away.

The giant laughed,
On their behalf,
Then urged them to progress;

He’d still to bear
Them in his care
Towards his giantess.

As well as word
Of humans spurred
To chance their sanity,

Encouraged by
A foreman’s lies
And inhumanity;

For he was sure
That market boor,
Whose letter he conveyed,

Was monkeying
With everything,
And leading all astray.