N I N E

A fourth night slept,
A second swept
Of undue reverie,

Then morning green
Unlike he’d seen
Beneath his childhood leaves.

A final word,
At first unheard,
Then urgently repeated,

And kitted out
With no one’s doubt
Of delicacy needed.

As angering
Their giant friends
Would benefit no party,

And all who could
Made understood
The need to be stout hearted.

So setting fair
Beyond a pair
Of limitless sequoia,

Grail seekers crept
Into the depths,
Beyond the market’s foyer.

Our lad was there,
As was the seer,
And too an earthy lass,

And in the group
Were two tall troops
Equipped with biomass.

The fuel would keep
Them in the deep
Well nourished from the dark,

As further out
The branches grout
Conspired to stifle sparks.

For though they lived
Beyond the sieves
Of ordinary dwellers,

The traders knew
Not what things grew
Deep in the forest’s cellars.

As they’d no need
To gather seeds
From underneath the awning,

As punters came
To their ballgame
Each and every morning.

Though one poor soul
Had trod this road,
And lived to speak about it;

As pure as day
Before she strayed,
But evening soiled once routed.

She told at first
How she’d traversed
A tract of well known land,

Until a hedge
Around her spread,
And started to command.

Its fertile roots
Appeared to shoot
Themselves in one direction,

And driving her
Along its curve
Therein lost day’s reflection.

With little light,
Or edge to fight
Her way out of the brush,

She strayed for days
Until a ray
Of brightness made her blush.

And so intense
Her eyes lost strength,
And forced their lids to close,

Until she found
Less hostile ground
Whose touch made sight compose.

Back home she was,
Or very close,
When trading voices found her;

Astounded by
Her clarity,
But scared of her surroundings.

Her brow was tanned
An umber brown,
And creased beyond its years,

As though it chose
To decompose
Before its time was near.

And though she swore
She’d nevermore
Reveal that cursed way,

The times were dire
So she was hired
To guide the group’s foray.