From prim Reclusion shall I take A few swift steps to this Café The Pulse a thriving Pace to wake And scents of sweeter Thoughts to weigh
With Spirit bless’d—though Talent scant— A Bard plucks on his Instrument I cheer the fumbling Musikant For Frolic is his chaste Intent
Some Laggards savor breakfasts stack’d Far into afternoon’s dark edge While others seek macchiatos lack’d Or cooling—to drab lounges fetch
No Metaphysic I’ll pretend Nor heavenly salvation Creeds To Poets true these Venues vend All Inspiration that one needs
This poem was published in issue #4 of Ranger magazine in 2024.
Andy Oram
November 20, 2023