Fleance’s Dream
Poem
Flame-tongued Summer lights our way
To dusty death.
You gave me cause to ponder,
When, painting your soul across my lips,
You drank the light, made sovereign
The continent of the day,
And drowned night-cloaked daggers.
No one of heaven born, could shake the life to come.
The Sisters still boil and bubble in the Moors.
I have heard their songs equivocate
Like a forest held aloft.
