[NetBehaviour] Melted

Simon Mclennan mclennanfilm at gmail.com
Tue Oct 12 23:00:31 CEST 2021

The art work https://www.instagram.com/p/CU50nPVI9Rh/?utm_medium=copy_link

They stood beside the smallish lake,
Under a few scraggy larch trees, their branches dipping 
Brown with cones and scant
The little beach had fine sand, blue pebbles and a filigree, spidery line of driftwood - only small twigs 
Bleached bone colour with
Coffee froth and dried leaves.
‘That’s the island. The one 
In the poem. Looks like a painting...?’
L creased his cheek with his
Palm and reached down for
A grey pebble and skimmed
It across the gently ruffled 
Surface of the lake.
‘Lake isle’ he intoned.

Further across the water than the islet they regarded
The mysterious and charming craft. This now
Shimmering in the afternoon
Haze of sun and almost imperceptible mist rising 
From the lake surface.
The craft, a small barque, rocked on the wavelets at its
Mooring by a yellowish oak.
The sails looking tangled and the Unusual design made  it a Strange site.

As they gazed the craft seemed to shimmer
Then rippled and faded gently away leaving only
White smoke and nothing more.

‘We can use the coracles to
Reach the island’ and they
Pulled the floating basket and skin contraptions out from under their hiding place

Upon landing they pulled up
The craft and taking their bundles they traversed the islet then picked a spot and 
Began to unpack.

The sound of bees foraging grew as the sun beat down and several oyster catchers 
Flapped overhead, then nine geese in formation followed by a couple of noisy jackdaws.

The sun seemed to grow
Hotter and the sound of the
Bees grew louder. 

But under the alder trees a 
Breeze flicked the grass stalks and the wild flowers, 
Making a very comfortable
Bower in which to doze away
The afternoon.

A few days later in the courtyard a rider arrived with
A message. He unrolled the scrolled paper and formally
Read the missive. ‘ you is
Invited to attend Prince Christo’s, next Saturday, for
A banquet and dance. (Wear your best gear) and don’t forget to fetch
The plans for the new gizmo,
Copter mobile or whatever,
Flying plate carrier you designed to my specs.
All the best,
Your mate, 
Prince C.
Ps I plan to try out the spinner on Sunday - I invite
You to accompany myself, and a small retinue of favoured friends and servants, on a field trip and
General outing - a mere handful of days, I hope. Upon which journey we may
Explore some river estuaries,
Cliffs and views, maybe a few mountains and not least
The big volcano. 
I hope this suits your plans.
If not, send word of such with the bearer of this message (that’s me - winked the messenger) 
So I do hope to see you at the dinner dance...

B curled her lip and turned
To L ‘chicken in the basket’

‘Ha, quite. More like barbecued chicken in the basket! If we get too close
To the lava! Ha ha’

‘Better get the glad rags ready’

And with that they headed for the kitchen, after conveying their answer for the Prince to his servant. The servant repeated their words twice, then mounted his pony and jiggled out through
The gate his feet without stirrup and his green hat 
Cocked on the side of his
Blonde head. 

The pony slouched a bit and
Eyed some turnips in the field as his rider whistled mechanically and repeatedly
A fanciful air.

‘I sing you a song
About the beautiful Don
This river so wide and long 
Runs across the steppe
My journey I do take 
Past haystacks and old barns
To meet my future wife
Her arms wide in welcome
And her family to feast
At arrival of my poor self
The traveller by the Don
And quiet it do flow
Though my heart it do sing
Fir now I am happy
To be a man to marry
And love shall be my friend
The stars wink
The moon swoons
The badger scurries on his important business
The field-mouse twitches
The corn hunkers down
The great oxen moo
And I sing sing and sing
Of my true love who waits
But not for long now!’

The pony ignored the words
For he had heard it all before
And cared nothing for the Don or the fanciful bride-to-Be but only the end of this
Journey and the company of
His mates at the stable.



Sent from my spyphone 
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