The Daily: 1 April 2023

Thanks to all the well wishes! I feel blessed!

All ended about as well as can be expected. Everybody is home with extant body parts more or less functional again. Perhaps certain persons may even take this as a sign that it might be time to slow down a bit now that over eight decades are in the rear view mirror… Yeah, probably not… But anyway…

It is both the first day of National Poetry Month and April Fool’s Day. So here is my April Fool poem.

The April Fool

The April Fool
awoke at dawn
with nothing in his head,
and with a smile
and lusty cry
he sprang up from his bed.

He donned his cap
and grabbed his sack
to see what was about,
and into April’s
chilly morn
he boldly ventured out.

To market fair
he turned his feet,
but ‘ere he had gone long,
saw neighbor
looking doleful
and stopped to ask what’s wrong.

Said neighbor 
to the April Fool
“I’ve task I can’t fulfill —
a message 
of importance
delivered o’er the hill.

But I have other
pressing needs
and so am torn in two.”
Then said the Fool,
“I’m not engaged.
I’ll take your note for you.”

The neighbor grinned
and said, “That’s fine!” —
and clapped him on the back.
“Just o’er the hill,
you’ll see the place.
Just there beside the track.”

The Fool, he went
and found the place
and knocked upon the door.
And when the yeoman
read the note, to Fool
he said, “There’s more.”

The yeoman said
“I can’t comply.
I’ve naught for this request. 
Please, go along
to yonder house
and give them this behest.”

So pliant Fool
did as was asked,
took note from door to door.
And yet each time
the note was read,
was sent to yet one more.

The morning waned,
the hours grew long,
yet task remained undone.
He trudged along
with weary feet
‘neath balmy springtide sun.

Just when he thought
it’d never end
— he’d started seeing double — 
a man looked up
from missive read
and thanked him for his trouble.

Now tired Fool
turned aching feet
back to his own front door.
All morning thoughts
of wandering
tempted him no more.

He dropped his sack
and tossed his cap
and, rubbing throbbing head,
— though noontide sun
still brightly shone —
the Fool went back to bed.

©Elizabeth Anker 2023

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