These verses are the daughters of drought, offerings
from a time in which the Fount of Thalia has dwindled to a trickle. Few indeed have been the fruits to ripen of late in the fields fed from her stream, and of what first appeared good much proved sour at first taste. That which was saved from the harvest had yet another test ere it could be set upon the table, for it was forced to face an exacting steward of severe judgment. A fair portion the harvester found worthy failed to pass the steward; thus this meal I hoped to make a feast instead forms a repast like to leave you hungry when you leave your place. For the banquet’s deficiencies, kindly accept the apologies of your impoverished host, and the hopeful pledge that when next you are invited to dine Mnemosyne’s daughter will have dealt more kindly with the tender of her orchard, so you may find the fare more worthy of your expectation. Until then the present dish must suffice to recall to mind the feasts that once were, and may perhaps be again. Your Humble Servant, the Poet. |
[Blurb]
from
All-Too-Occasional Verses : poems,
1st ed.,
Dec. 2005.
A later (versified) version appeared in the chapbook
An Occasional Fountain, Dec. 2011.
1st web edition posted
3/3/2006.
This page last updated
7/26/2013.
Published by Fleabonnet Press.
©
2005-2013 by
Brian Kunde.