"Bubbling up in our own good time-- online."
Groundwaters Publishing, LLC
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Volume 5 Issue 4
Page 7
Page 7
Shakara, the albino boa constrictor
oozes her yellow and white self
in her caregiver’s arms. Her tongue,
lightning flicker on proffered hands.
Down the path, a bejeweled iguana named Gilda
rides a biker’s studded black shoulder
as he decides between Twelfth Night
from the bleachers or a snow cone.
My ten-year-old grandniece, Sara,
has made her own jerkin and shirt,
sharing the sewing machine with her mom
who transformed the green tablecloth
into a hooded cape which falls perfectly
just an inch above Sara’s Nikes.
This young jouster-in-waiting is happiest
brandishing her wooden sword and swirling the cape,
wandering the dusty paths amid two-day
Northwest Elizabethans, somewhere between
the Society for Creative Anachronism
and puberty.
oozes her yellow and white self
in her caregiver’s arms. Her tongue,
lightning flicker on proffered hands.
Down the path, a bejeweled iguana named Gilda
rides a biker’s studded black shoulder
as he decides between Twelfth Night
from the bleachers or a snow cone.
My ten-year-old grandniece, Sara,
has made her own jerkin and shirt,
sharing the sewing machine with her mom
who transformed the green tablecloth
into a hooded cape which falls perfectly
just an inch above Sara’s Nikes.
This young jouster-in-waiting is happiest
brandishing her wooden sword and swirling the cape,
wandering the dusty paths amid two-day
Northwest Elizabethans, somewhere between
the Society for Creative Anachronism
and puberty.
| Ye Merrie Greenwood Faire By Quinton Hallett |