by Michael Keeling
Something called Community Chest
upset our evening perambulation.
You know, the quiet walk in the park
collecting thoughts and the odd empty beer can.
Not only us but dogs, lovers, vagrants, squirrels
and sundry birds were miffed.
The ordinance corps arrived
a good two weeks before proceedings
fencing everything off like a crime scene.
This included half our regular exercise lap.
A new route was planned of equal calorific value
which could have taken in the pub but that
wasn’t really the object of the exercise.
However common sense conquered sobriety.
Sitting at the bar with a double scotch,
(my lady with her usual brandy and water),
thoughts turned to the Bard.
It was, indeed, the Shakespeare Festival.
Maynardville Park was witnessing Othello doing his nut
while slaying his old girl with Iago’s hypno-suggestive hankie.
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinable gum.
It was a double whammy, the Bard and the Chest together.
When revels ended and silent was the air
a lot more than a rack was left behind.
Clean-up time took another three days.
The tearing down of the wall
and restoration of the hallowed ground
precipitated a ceremonial lap of honour.
Birds, squirrels, dogs, lovers, vagrants and kids
reclaimed their territory.
But, when all’s said and done, why complain?
Homer was right,
The charity that is a trifle to us
can be precious to others.