Lyrscriben

Under the beams of the pavilion roof,
Before the stacked limestone fireplace,
Within site of owls,
Within earshot of none but ourselves,
Speaking of swans and balls and Dublin,
Bending elbows and hearing glass tinkle,
Dipping shrimp in blood red sea sauce,
Petting homage to the great black Dane,
We disinterred Huldah
Only to learn we didn’t know what to do with her,

So back she went into the same dark ground!