T H R E E

Up startled, hard,
And clearly heard,
A shrilling and a fuss;

He quickly rose
And found his clothes,
But they were dressed in dust.

And everywhere
The earth was bare
Of greenery and growth,

And overhead
The mottled spread
Of yield had lost its troth.

The noise returned
And slowly burned
The skin around his ears;

He clapped them hard
But they were charred,
And crumpled like dead leaves.

As did his lips
And finger tips,
Whose branching bones appeared,

And just as they
Were set to fray,
He woke from nightmare’s fear.

On looking round
He saw the ground
Was just as it should be,

But something vexed
The forest’s text,
And its authority.

He dwelt on this
Until the kiss
Of day break called him in,

Then bundled up
His evening robes,
And set off once again.

Now pondering
Was not his thing,
And morning cleansed his mind,

Whilst following
The hallowed green
To where it cared to wind.

But as he wove
Through densest groves,
As thick as eager thieves,

The woodland noise
Seemed tranquilized,
And listless on the breeze.

Now round a bend,
From end to end,
And troubled recently,

A well worn track
Of foot step marks
Appeared suddenly.

He stood up straight,
And raised his gait,
And followed their direction,

Until the path
Curved to a graph
Of several intersections.

He chose the right,
To expedite,
And soon it straightened up,

Until a rise
Of smoke arose
Beyond a small hilltop.

With weighted steps,
And bated breaths,
He conquered yonder crest,

In hope again
Of fellow men,
And all their Sunday best.

And from its crown
He saw their town,
Though smaller than so-called;

He’d come across
A trading post,
With all it secret stalls.

Where goods exchanged
Themselves for gains
Of equal enterprise,

And creatures bold
Of chronicle
Imported merchandize.

So on he went
Until he sent
His sight to a dragoon,

Who bade him in
As if he’d been
Expected like the moon.

He bowed in thanks,
And entered ranks
Of every trader known,

Until the breath
Caught in his chest,
And from his father blown.