SCOTTISH RITES
The year’s last light spilling in before dark. A flood of gold on the floor.
Winter, on its haunches, panting.
This is when we slaughtered meat, tasted the beer and the new wine.
A fortnight of feasting, and then we chased trolls.
Our fore fathers had a ritual for this, but we just swatted at stains
messy little monsters
as they multiplied before our eyes.
How to spot a troll? After two weeks of drink?
“When men make a road, trolls disappear.”
Does this mean, we should build more roads?
By Alice Van Buren
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The subject is fully clear but why does the text lack clarity? But in general your blog is great.
gualetar
March 22, 2010 at 2:32 pm