A Quiet Quest?
Everywhere he looked spring had sprung green, gold
and clear running streams no longer ice-choked.
Nights still froze his balls off, but leave the wold
he would to see Shayari ‘fore he croaked.
Nothing tied him here now that his wife had gone.
His children grown no longer wanted him
around, an inconvenience he’d become.
He set off that morn adjusting his brim,
to hide the tear tracing his grizzled cheek.
He put his home of five decades behind
and headed for the last time to that creek
which marked the end of home, no time to whine
about loss, giving that his back, he turned
and in his breast, curiosity burned.
~ ~ ~
Heneth passed the creek, started up the vale’s
wall seeking its rim and not one son run
up to ask of him where he’s bound or rail
at him for leaving home to have some fun.
Almond branches scratch aquamarine sky
as he pauses on the valley rim, breath
caught by a village planted in the sky,
treehouses rope-suspended on a breath,
hanging on enchanted oak, connected
by ladders and bridges, a delicate
tangle that teams with life, disconnected
now him from them, that village as he quits
it and continues, his last adventure
is his first and only solo venture.
~ ~ ~
Henneth hadn’t gone far ‘fore he heard voices
that weren’t real friendly like, so hide behind
thick boles, creep and skulk he did, ’till choices
presented no fighting of any kind.
Then step out he did to see a tinker
with his cart, an antique brass watch in hand.
“I’ve lost my ride,” said Tinker man, hoofprints
attested to his word, “Damn spooky land.”
This man half his age wanted Hen to sprint
after a high spirited bunch of beasts?
He opened his mouth intending to say
nay; the look the tinker gave sent him east
trotting after the damned mule anyway.
He found the beast tangled in a thicket.
For his labor, he earned a gold ticket.
~ ~ ~
The tinker’s cart clattered off as Hen looked
at the gold ticket in his hand wond’ring
what to do with it; he felt a bit rooked
by the whole deal, his apricot skin stings
from where thorns scratched and his compensation?
no balm to soothe his skin but a solid
gold plate with gibberish inscribed, no ration,
no sign of legal tender for stolid
Henneth making his way through enchanted
forest–at least they’ve left off their mischief,
those trees, long enough to take for granted
that their quietude will last though mischief’s
never far from their boles and even now
they are growing restless from root to bough…
The story continues in A Colorful Quest?
~ ~ ~
New Year, New Quest….
Join me every day for 116 days for a quest of a different sort; an offbeat, humorous rendering of Shayari’s magicked miles as seen through a regular Joe (who’s having a midlife walkabout) and the misfits he meets along the way. His life’s never going to be the same. Shayari might not be either.
Part adventure and part travelogue, through hapless Henneth you’ll get to see a whole lot more of Shayari and its Enchanted forest. We’ll see if Hen can stay ahead of those smart trees. Those magic weeds have plans for everyone who come under their boughs. Not just Sarn, but regular Shayarins too. Let’s hope Henneth is up to the challenge because those monoliths take no prisoners. They don’t often give quarter either though they do, when the mood strikes them, glow. (And they are fond of children.)
~ ~ ~
Sarn and his family are taking a brief hiatus while I work on publishing their first full length novel tentatively titled Enchanted. You can read drafts of the first 15 chapters by hitting up its TOC page here.
If you miss them or missed parts of their holiday adventure, you can pick up a copy of their holiday novella:
A Curse Breaker Novella
It’s a free read through Kindle Unlimited.🙂
Stars and Angels Sing is coming to print with gorgeous black and white images I hope before the end of January. There will also be an audio edition. I will post clips when I have edited them. Details to come!
~ ~ ~