From a Blue Cloud

From a blue cloud at the two o’clock

And out of the rain,

With a long step and a swift nod

The master came.

 

Swinging behind him a painted box

In an old and tattered bag,

He watched my eye on the mystery box

And sat on a damson rag.

 

Under the pleat of his purple cloak

Was the Queen of petty spades,

‘We’re off to the end of the rainbow, Jack

To the long, black end of days.’

 

Ducking the light of the morning star

We hid in a tulip bed,

But caught the beam in a bottle-jar

To light the way ahead.

 

The master took some tinsel foil

To shake on the fairy phlox,

He said: ‘You can have the Queen of Spades

Or the painted mystery box.’

 

I chose the Queen, who dredged a pit

To place the box within,

He tipped his hat with a weary nod,

‘I’m on my way again.’

 

Now often I notice the Queen of Spades

Look long and long at me,

With a sad smile, she whispers on:

‘Oh what, and what might we?’

 

While I still watch for the blue cloud

And the two o’clock bus,

In hopes that he and the mystery box…

He never does!

 

David Lewis Paget

 

Reviews

[Marie]

A nice, somewhat poignant fantasy. We have to live with our choices.