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Unless it’s nxt
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Yxx hxxx nx stxr
Tx gxxdx yxx xn thxs lxxx.

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Xx xxx yxx’xx fxxx
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Fxx xxx xxx x
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Xxx xxx, xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx.

I might just be a giant
If I’m looking at this right.
I might just be defiant
Of any so called “height”
That marks me off below
The sun and moon and stars,
Although I know they glow
At a distance very far,
And maybe sun still grows
Because it knows of me.
A giant here, who knows?
But me? I might just be.

If the stars refuse to shine
Look to the dust to twinkle,
There are reasons for the mines
In mountains high and sprinkled
With clouds upon their spines
Light dives their rivered wrinkles.
If you wonder ’bout the stars
And where they got their start,
Know that I don’t know if ours
Are different in their art
But only that the eyes
Are lit by the heart.

Those buttery eyes
Are hard to resist
On a pancake face
All syrup kissed
With berries and nuts
And a whip cream mist
Upon such cheeks
Of fluffy bliss.

Our dear pancake
Would be much missed
But knew I was hungry
And would be remiss
Not to take this chance
To make me the dish
And gobbled me down
Its deliciousness.

Heavy is the head
That wears the crown,
Light is the mind
That can’t be found.

Let it wander
Where it wants,
All the fun’s
In the mindless hunts.

“I don’t wait for anyone!”
Koomp shouted as she ran
And tripped and fell and watched
Her shadow run off on the sand.

“Now there’s one who won’t tarry,”
Koomp thought aloud to all,
Who could not hear her for,
Of course, she’d left them all to fall.

But now she had a hero
Out along the edge
Of all the prim and proper things
That bowed under the pledge

To never let a shadow
Ever be a thing
That they’d care at all about,
From pompous pawn to king.

Koomp runs on still shadowless,
Tripping here and there,
Loving that her shadow runs
Out beyond a care.

It took a long time for knights to figure out their armor. There were no perfectly made metal pauldrons or grieves to slap on out of nowhere. They knew they should use something to protect themselves, but what? These knights wrapped themselves in myth then became so themselves.

Flower Knight
Flower Knight was beautiful but predictably short lasting – “Nature’s beauty will protect!” But only so much. Popular with bees and butterflies but they didnt really care about him and even stung him more than a few times.

Book Knight
Book Knight could imagine no armor better than tomes as she would be “protected by the brilliance of the human race!” The truth is that most books are thick enough to be effective at keeping swords and arrows out. Books are heavy but so is steel. As a bonus, when the battle lulled the knight could enjoy some holy text or perhaps a bit of Chaucer. Rather weak against flaming arrows.

Muffin Knight
Muffin Knight was a baker and wise enough to know that donuts would not serve as armor due to a conspicuous hole right in the middle of them. Instead, he overbaked shallow muffins to give them a very hard crust, sprinkling sugar on top to really crystalize that toughness. The moment he stepped on the battlefield the crows got him.

Strike Knight
Strike Knight was all attack. She had no interest in defensive thought and theory. She would always be on the attack. So she strapped swords, daggers, crossbows, maces and more daggers all over her body. Unfortunately she tripped early in her first battle.

Love Knight
No record exists of this knight, only rumor. But there have likely been many and will be many more. Briefly.

Night Knight
Night Knight would only go into battle at night and no one ever seemed to actually see him do anything. He claimed to wrap himself in the quiet dark and put the opposing army to sleep. Whenever you heard a snore he claimed that as his victory. However, he could never get all asleep at once and those he did eventually woke up well rested.

Ivy Knight
Ivy Knight covered herself in poison ivy in the belief that no one would want to come near enough to attack her. She was right, but too itchy to push the advantage.

Spider Knight
Had much the same issue as the Ivy Knight.

Silk Knight
Silk Knight believed in comfort above all else, draping himself in the most exquisite silks. He never left his bed for the battleground but he did survive, living a long, comfy life.

I never will be,
And nor will you,
Because we are
And that will do.

Part I

A gentle breeze touched on the trees
And then it tore them down,
There’d be no simple sights to see
In this old hollow town.

The town of Crumble came to be
When stars all glanced away,
When they looked back a town of three
Had sprouted from the clay.

Young Tacker was the biggest seized
Out of the living soil,
The other two were modest bees
In search of flower spoils.

The town of Crumble sat like dew
On clay from which it came,
Its purple twists of red and blue
Leaped like a living flame.

Part II

A quiet creek set out to wreak
Its havoc on the house
That welcomed in the coming drink
Too happy to be doused.

Wet Tacker gathered up the leak
For his deep garden rows
Where sprouts had all begun to peek
Convinced that soon they’d grow.

The bumbly bees were happy weak
At all the hinting buds
For they knew flowers would soon sneak
Up to the world above.

The town of Crumble cracked like crabs
As hard things must to gain
A greater place, shells are safe traps
That shield and then contain.

Part III

A pebble spilled on down the hill
To lead its many friends
In avalanche, for come what will,
They’d show this town its end.

Rough Tacker felt a rocky thrill
As he was buried deep,
But he would need no pick nor drill
To save all from the heap.

The flowers led, and do so still,
Up to the loving light,
So the town grew as it was filled
Up with the mountain’s might.

The town of Crumble bloom by bloom
Swirled with the world around,
Combining, growing with more room
For any in their town.

Part IV

A hungry fox found the town crops
And then a mouse and bird
Invited their respective flocks
To feast as one great herd.

The trick of life is putting locks
On things for which the keys
Are in our pockets or our socks
To do with as we please.

Both bees and Tack pulled out all stops
To meet the critters’ needs,
So they would break down the town box
And spread all of its seeds.

The town of Crumble emptied out
To build itself once more,
While all it needed was one sprout
It got them by the score.

Part V

A spark awoke the town to smoke
And curious young flames,
Who much like Tacker were evoked
To play a larger game.

The elements are changeless folks
Who bring about great change,
Few things will ever dare to coax
Like danger stark and strange.

Our bees and Tacker met the hoax
That fire will just destroy,
And as they caught they also stoked
The flames up with great joy.

The town of Crumble came from clay
And now it had its kiln
To welcome it to sunny day
Though night had let it in.

Part VI

A shooting star flew from afar
To Tacker still alight,
As if a beacon called it there
To pick a fiery fight.

But it was not for any war
The two of them now met,
The star fell down from distant lore
To pay a happy debt.

The stars saw Tacker open doors
That something cold had closed,
So they brought him to join and soar
The heights above the crows.

The town of Crumble carried on
In twists of purple clay,
As bees pulled life from the beyond
And Tacker looked away.

A shooting star flew from afar
To Tacker still alight,
As if a beacon called it there
To pick a fiery fight.

But it was not for any war
The two of them now met,
The star fell down from distant lore
To pay a happy debt.

The stars saw Tacker open doors
That something cold had closed,
So they brought him to join and soar
The heights above the crows.

The town of Crumble carried on
In twists of purple clay,
As bees pulled life from the beyond
And Tacker looked away.