[4/20/26]

Valiantly face your shadow

Like a namesake gone before.

Royal child of hidden kingdoms,

Seek to hear the Lion's roar.

You're a child of blooming Spring,

[4/18/26]

Is the sky pouring down to make soup, or tea?

There are leaves on the ground aplenty,

And floral teas can be pretty neat,

I think.

I drink

My tea with you when we meet;

Your apple-spice, my China black lychee.

Perhaps the warmth helps make our conversation free.

Your tea nook is a weather-map

Of friendships over time.

The chocolate and the berry swap

Tales of places far, and joys sublime.

Rainy days still make us bloom,

Lightning flash and thunder boom

May try to bring the heat

(For Shasta in the fog.)

--

In the dark, in the dark–in the dark and cold–

Pines dripping, wind biting, and path untold–

A boy rides alone, and his sorrow seethes.

But something unseen at his side, it breathes;

Warm and deep and slow and wild.

A voice in the shadows comes, rich and mild.

It had waited long for him to speak,

Holding all answers he could seek.

If he wanted Truth, he had only to ask.

What lies behind his every task?

Whose are his sorrows, and whose his hope?

Who sheltered him there at the end of his rope,

That night in the tombs when ghouls he feared?

Who brought him in safely when death he neared

As a wailing child at the edge of the sea?

What lurks past his every memory?

In the dark, in the dark, triune voices call,

Echoing forth from a singular footfall,

And the fog's shroud is fading into white,

[4/13/26]

Two girls spin out of orbit, into different sorts of power.

They only want belonging.

They find a kingdom and a tower.

One studious and careful, but with lightning in her veins.

One wild and girlish, muddy skirts,

Stands in high places, seeks the power that drains

Desire's cup,

While her sister finds the vacuum nature abhors,

And grins,

And fills it up.

Binary stars are burning:

Bloody red,

Electric blue.

Wary hearts still yearning

Looming doom will make you cheery

Though your views are rather dreary

Puddleglum, Puddleglum.

Too hopeful for a Wiggle's part,

Dour as smog but stout of heart–

Glum as puddles, Puddleglum.

You expect us to forget your name,

If we do it's to our shame

Puddleglum, Puddleglum.

Bravest Wiggle that I know,

Brought a quest you'll up and go

Bright as puddles lit with sun

Every night he is sane:

And this is the horror of it.

It should have been a mercy,

A protection on his mind.

But herein comes the pain,

Sweat-dampened and teeth grit,

The stratagem of a lady who's so far from good and kind.

Helpless screaming,

Laughs and crooning,

Every godforsaken night.

Every night he is clinging

To memories with his last wit.

So long it's been since he has

Felt the Sun unmasked.

A slender hope it's bringing,

In the hours he can't forget:

Somewhere green trees grow still if he can break the ties that bind.

Plead your case now,

Prince of starlight,

Until you help them see aright.

One Name shall be your password

What counts as gentleness in Giants –

or civility in ogres?

Will they treat you as an equal, say,

Or keep you as a pet?

Are they numbskulls like the sort down south,

Or something nastier yet?

Some of their kindred will laugh and lob rocks,

Some build bridges carved over with eldritch things,

But what counts as gentleness in Giants?

They hadn't finished praying yet

When wonder came like a cliffhanger story,

Rich as jewels and sweet and sharp as peppermint candy.

For a moment they had cause to forget

Their sorrows in a blaze of strangeness and glory,

A sudden gift beyond any words they could bandy.

The heavy gray autumn was interrupted.