The Dance in the Glade

by Kayne Brookes

Seek thee out wisp-bound glade mine son,
the Daughter bids thee come
to merry dance that has begun
amoung strange friends so glum.

Proud Seeded Lion with deep bow
doth greet his mistress kind.
A burning kiss upon his brow,
his rage the Law doth bind.

Great Owl Beast doth dance wild alone,
heed well his violent reel!
For in his foot stabs deep a bone
left from his last grim meal.

The Basilisk about the fray
doth strut and preen for praise.
But lo, o’er his admirers weighs
the hush of stone lock’d gaze.

Betwixt the trees old Bole-Wight snores,
head rest’d upon thick root.
For ever eager his cup pours
the wine of blood soak’d fruit.

Seek thee not wisp-bound glade my son,
for innocence hath fled.
The Judging Wood shall your flesh rend
such that strange friends be fed.