Why should I not delight to live
In these fair lands where Aestas has long residence
Working her artistry day after day?
It is not to the artist’s blame that
The audience shrivels and withers before the intensity of her performance
Snails or slugs bestrewn with salt cast from where she prompts sweat

Though descended from hardy men
I am not a hardy man
Have not the stamina that I once did
And even that was not so much
But that fault is mine if fault it is
And problem mine if it is no fault
Though I confess to seeking faults and wallowing in them

Even so feeble and fast-falling as I am
I take some small joy in seeing the dance she does
Dwelling here so long as she does
Kindly and in force here as in few other places
Even if it is not for me that she will dance
Or not only for me
And others gyrate more fully and freely than I have ever done
At her mere approach and in her long duration
Taking their time as she with them until she
Satisfied that she has done enough
Moves on
Only to come back again
As those who sit before this stage of hers
Bound by brush among gnarling woods upthrusting
Know will happen
And mostly when–
Though she visits at odd times between

Like what I write?
I’m happy to write for you–all human-made content with no AI filler!
Fill out the form below for details!

I’d love to have your patronage!