King (Poem)


Bursting pennants
standing guard
against the glad inner courtyard,
revel in their newborn form.

A hazy day, and yet
still light.
A gathering, all life.

The herald sounds,
rings opulent
in way of supple melodies.

The center holds,
and we bow down,
and all is well,
I don my crown–
and yet, each here
knows fancy’s flight.

I do, as well,
and in my might,
a servant
of the one and all;
I am the biggest
and most small.

Complete archive can be found on the Poems page.

This poem was published in Europa Sun magazine, Issue 7, October 2018

 

Image:

Entry of John II of France and Joan I of Auvergne into Paris after their coronation at Reims in 1350, later manuscript illumination by Jean Fouquet