Twilight at the Tower of London

Tim Walker

It's not yet midsummer's eve when
pixes and pucks descend

long-limbed, lean, and legged,
stumbling in silks and chiffons

golds and greens, blues and blushes
colors a showcase in the swooning sun

To the east, the Tower is a gilded fortress,
centuries of silence and suffering

To the west, young bodies glow and flirt,
skin and laughter erupting through sky

Under Oberon's spell and at Bottom's bidding,
heels stumble and step forth

onto a stage set in spring, ready
for an evening of mischief and revelry


Written: 7/27/10