Shakespeare by Moonlight

   by Michael Keeling

It’s a midsummer’s night.
A chill breeze demands a blanket,
cushioned seats a bonus.
In a corner, stage right,
contemplates the Bard
like Patience on a Monument.

Overhead, stars
above a backdrop of trees.
It’s make-believe
in a theatre of dreams:
our world a world of players,
our dreams the dreams of fantasy

where exotic isle of eccentricity
confuses gender and love
fooling the flattered to don
yellow stockings with crossed garters,
where music be the food of love
and we have excess of it…..

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