Dragon’s breath portending ill
Descends on wandering friar.
He’s binged on honeyed mead
That played him false. Teeth chatter now
A-feared— the king’s men near—
And concrete images recede
In whiskey’s lying cheer.
Bees buzz from vegetable patch to tonsured head
To soldiers’ flesh; well-fed, recede.
Dragon’s alarm is eased.















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