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                                                THE MOONPOOL 
              - 
                It is a lazy, restful time 
                 here in the forest glade. 
                The sun is departing, the stars arriving 
                 and the trees are a darkening jade. 
              - 
                An air of buzzing, drowsing stillness 
                 invades the meadow, lends weight to my head 
                as I settle down - bedroll, backpack 
                 and strains of music are seemingly played. 
              - 
                A deep, cool, dark pool is here, 
                 mirror clear, reflections of skies, 
                as peace fills my mind, my soul 
                 and sleep gently touches my eyes. 
              - 
                I know not whether I was awake, or in dream 
                 or how much time had passed, 
                when I felt the magic of this place 
                 camped there, upon the grass. 
              - 
                No sounds - no crickets? (The Music!) 
                 As the Moon awakens the pool, so bright. 
                Why this anticipation, premonition, 
                 this magical feeling, this ghost haunted night? 
              - 
                Then, a siamese cat enters the meadow- 
                 silver grey, regal compusure, flowing lines. 
                And somehow I know - I see intelligence 
                 and wit, and power, as she looks into my eyes. 
              - 
                How does she speak without speaking? 
                 But somehow, she communicates good will, and cheer. 
               'Stay quiet, childe of man.', she says. 
                'Be still - you are but a guest here.' 

               Then a parade of feline musicians 
                 wandered in singing from the right. 
                I shake my head *bedazzled*; Am I dreaming, or mad? 
                 Why me - here to witness this eldritch sight? 



                                     THE MOONPOOL  (cont.)
              - 
                A troupe of dancing, cavorting gnomes 
                 made their appearence upon a rocky stage. 
                And following them : silver clad, haughty elves 
                 accompanied by a wizened old mage. 
              - 

                Now, many strange but noble presences made manifest 
                 on that starlit night in June. 
                And I witnessed and heard sweet music, high magic, secrets 
                 until dawn, with the passing of the Moon. 
              - 
                And the high bred Queen of Cat Folk 
                 smiled with warmth, and left. 
                Left me shaking with these visions, 
                 and nodding, I finally slept. 
              - 
                I return often to these stately woods, seeking 
                 but never finding the sacred pool, so bright. 
                It makes me sad - very sad to think 
                 that it was but a dream, a peculiar night. 
              - 
                But sometimes, at the edge of sleep, 
                 soft music slowly beckons, and calls. 
                And I know with every fiber of my being 
                 that I will again visit these magical sylvan halls 
             
                                                                                           1863


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