It's a joy being privileged

To keep the night watch

At Castle Malaprop

In these last few decades:

Tottering along the ramifications

Slick with trombone frills,

Peeking over the catamounts to

Watch the flatulated calves at play.

The mind sets strong from the west,

Maundering like untailored carabinos

And held to gravitas only by

The sheer weight of photonic flux.
 

Magical palimpsests

To the contrary,

The blessing's in knowing

There's more to merry

Than crosses the palm,

And less to the

Reaper of swine.