In a kingdom full of lodges
My knights, I could not awaken.
I crave the happy, historic hut
the green green-way gardening.
I am shorn of my chestnut horse
an echo whispered, ‘weeping willow!’
And so you came gently sauntering.
The trumpet vines glared in orange.
There stood a thorn-less flower child
who could be more purely of faith?
Eagerly I looked for the cottage,
but my mind always strays to tipis,
the ingenue brought such sorrow
I threw its ghost into the root cellar
as I am without my healing ginseng.
‘It’s that wooded sorrel,’ I whispered,
removing the stress from my intent.
The celadon white hut complexing
My thoughts are astray into woodlands
somewhat louder than hounds on a fox.
Back, back into my memories receding
I had dreamed of chambers sharing
Instead you uncovered the ovenware
The small silver birch bowed in the wind
Life in a shaded stained-glass window
Beyond a retro cottage – a little Căsuță.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, prize winning poet and fabulist from New Hampshire, now residing on the plains of Oklahoma. He is widely published in magazines, journals, reviews and anthologies throughout the US and abroad. He has three poetry collections, “The Cellaring”, 80 poems of light horror, paranormal, weird and wonderful work. His second book, “A Taint of Pity”, contains 52 Life Poems Written with a Cracked Inflection. Ken’s third poetry collection, “Zephyr’s Whisper”, 64 Poems and Parables of a Seasonal Pretense, and includes his poem, “With Charcoal Black, Version III”, selected as the First Prize Winner in Realistic Poetry International’s recent Nature Poem Contest. Ken won First Prize for his Haiku on Southern Collective Experience. He’s been nominated three times for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net for 2016-2018. Ken loves writing, hiking, thunderstorms, and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.