XXIV-XXVII

XXIV.

Four pastors gathered after compline’s close
around a game of cards and fantasy.
We played a group of old adventure pros
who’d won the dragon’s treasure clear and free.

To celebrate the end of such a quest
they’d travelled to a tavern for to feast:
a bard, an elf, a paladin, and best—
a rabbit turned to some demonic beast.

“It’s not a drinking game,” I did assure
the Senior of our Order come the morn.
We’d never even had a single pour.
“My elf did all the boozing,” as I’d sworn.

I added that she’d taken home the win:
the last one conscious at Red Dragon Inn.


XXV.

I wouldn’t be the first to point this out
but comic books are truly modern myth:
the multiple accounts all strewn about
so no one version stands as monolith.

The Greeks had no compunction in their plays
with tweaking older tales to meet the taste
of audiences weary of clichés
yet loving of the plot on which they’re based.

The origin of Hercules or Hulk
is ever-freshened flesh on ancient bone.
They churn out films on Superman in bulk
with e’vry one by predecessors honed.

The stories may not match yet they do rhyme.
Thus gods and monsters both evolve through time.


XXVI.

There’s something truly magical in math
Augustine and Pythagoras well knew.
The numbers take us down a heady path
and through philosophy to find the True.

Such wonder held in common playing cards
at fifty-two factorial per deck,
more combinations possible by far
than atoms in the Earth—go on and check.

Statistic’lly, whatever deck you shuffle
has never been before nor will again,
an infinitely permutating puzzle
beyond capacity of mortal ken.

Each game is cosmologic’lly unique.
Thus mathematics demonstrate mystique.


XXVII.

The problem with a sonnet done a day
is that you sometimes only have a slice
of time before appointments sweep away
the moment in the frenziedness of life.

You haven’t opportunity to think
of topics both amusing and profound.
Your mind is more concerned to be in synch
with having both your feet upon the ground.

But that was just the point of this endeavor:
committing to a daily act of art.
So much for your concern of being clever.
Take pencil to the paper: make a start.

Not ev’ry piece of poetry is deep
when writers have a schedule they must keep.