Against the force of spiderwebs and time
We muster sev'ral ancient strategies,
We clamour against sadness and disease,
And frankly name such obstacles a crime
That stall or stagger joy. No warranties
Are offered, so they say. We understand
The thought. However, in this strange, dark land
We live our lives for dancing and for cheese.
And on the hearth the logs burn freely, fanned
By summer breezes. Let the clocks tick out
The minutes for the moon delivers doubt
And melancholy firm rebuffs. The band
© Kevin Berland, 1999
Return to Pandæmonium Club page.
Go to next poem.