T W O

Now one fine day,
Beneath the sway,
A jobbing laggard rose,

And dreaming last
Threw off the past
That bade him to repose.

Some fortitude
Had crept into
His purpose overnight,

And down by dawn
He made it known
That he would seek the light.

His mother bawled,
His father called,
And begged him reconsider,

To stay in bed
And keep his head
Below the tree line hidden.

But bold our lad
Ignored his dad,
And laid his kit about him;

He packed it thrice
Until practice
Had rid him of his doubting.

And by mid noon
Left his bed room
With last words in a letter,

Addressed to those
Who like him chose
To leave their beds for better.

And with his stores,
And own applause,
He checked out of his nest,

Where he had spent
His life’s events
In misty coloured dress.

His name was laughed
By those he passed,
Who thought him broken headed,

But new found sense
And diligence
Combined to keep him steady.

While some did seem
To be up stream
Acclaiming his departure,

But once approached
Their voices chose
To ridicule his charter.

Unbowed a route
Passed underfoot
Until the town bar beckoned;

He paid its toll
With one bread roll,
Though it required a second.

And it being free
Of sentry keeps,
He left another note,

Which promised that
He would come back
With more than anecdotes.

Then out he went
Amidst the scent
Of elder places present,

Wherein a vast
And verdant cast
Of shadows rose to heaven.

And quietly
The boundary
Of all he’d ever known,

Released him from
Its opium,
And left him out alone.

By well sprung soil,
And branches coiled
With nameless energy,

He laboured on
Until he’d gone
As far as he could see.

Passed handsome gems,
And garnered stems
Of untold shades of plant,

And tallest grass
That did surpass
The finest in the land.

The forest guard,
Unfolding far,
Embraced him newly passing,

And all involved
As one, dissolved,
Before around him massing,

And finding quilts
Of finest silks,
To cradle him a bed,

Coerced him down
On covered ground,
And crept into his head.