OPENING
by Leslie Engle
(Then: Gooselady and Drakespeare, RPFS ret (1994)
(Now: The Shrew; Shrewsbury Renaissance Faire)

Magic is afoot

Between the sun and the opening gates.
Caught at hilltop suspended in the soft roar
five hundred years away down slope.

Good Morrow Good Morrow

Threads of sound slip easily into the
expectant air laying yet cool on the tongue.
Movement sensed, waking, waiting.

Arms push into sleeves

Sotto voce, encampments stir with wisp of
smoke.  Strain of Pipe, spoon touches dish.
Child eyes at tent edge gaze to middle earth.

Buckles close

A player fingers recorder, dropping low notes
of Pretorious into the muffle of the lake.
Ducks smile wisely from the reeds.

Greenman stirs in the shadows

Long limbed fool rattles by on crooked
bicycle fearful of an entrance missed.  Folke
slip with practiced ease into reality.

Stalls yawn themselves open

Expectant in the early day, slowly to reveal
treasure hoards awaiting ransom.  Places
taken, quiet business among the Folke.

The last lace tied

As Time slides sideways caught beneath the
trees, becomes the now.  Footfalls race
across the bridge, the stage awakes.

Ten minutes, people, ten minutes

Gates breached, they pour their questioning
eyes up the hill seeking those who have
already found the way home.