Monday, September 26, 2005

A corner of the market

TWISTY STICKS

There is a spot here in the market square --
a stall of sorts,
if a tumbling wall makes a table,
and silk scarf or two in the branches
makes for a pavilion.

You might miss it with a mind on crumbly cakes,
or catch a fella’s eye;
for the old man sits close upon the tree
and there are but two baskets
full of twisty sticks.

Staves and canes and walking sticks be his fame,
so I’ve been told,
for I’ve never seen him sell a thing,
or barter fair or write an order down –
least wise not today.

Oh, past sunrise past a bit ‘til warm
a gent ambles by,
jingling purse and one-shoulder cape,
and feather never see a bird close by,
lookin’ fer a staff.

Said he wanted something magical
and would fit his style,
and was distressed a bit at how simple carved
the selection was and limited in size and count,
and interesting shape.

Yet, seems he just had to have an Annuur Stick,
or so they be called,
but wasn’t willing to pay the price set fast,
of standing on the stump and singing loud,
or a story tell.

Then a tiny whisp of girl still hand held
came just whistling by;
and the ol' man called out to her to attend,
in a voice more lightning than gentle wind,
and select a stick.

for ‘twas her poor father’s birthing day,
little to celebrate,
and all she had for him was a simple song
and a picnic of nuts and berries found,
by her love alone.

She held each finely crafted twisty stick,
which he called by name,
and marveled at the faces, flowers and symbols
carved dancing down their length
and round about.

There was one intricate with elves and charms
just quivering there,
that rightly jumped into her gleeful hands,
to pace proud ‘tween them tall and small
as they walked away.

No one else seemed to notice, or to care,
I’d be a guessin’,
seeing as you only find most magick
by not looking, but by giving it away
in innocence.

2 Comments:

At 6:19 AM, Blogger Karen said...

This is s sweet story of the proper use of magick!

 
At 5:05 PM, Blogger le Enchanteur said...

I can feel a sketch itching to be created faucon. This is just delightful. I love it when you write like this.

 

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