Scotsfield Bay

blessed.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Scotsfield Bay
 
A Saga for Young Readers
(that ends suddenly)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Upon the Passion we did lay
Atop the calm of Scotsfield Bay.
 
We set sail on seas of green
To lands of simple, carefree dreams.
 
We spied at first the place of purple
Where creatures moved serene and supple.
 
A world of endless breathless sunset
With diamond fires and clouds of velvet.
 
We stole into a deep fjord
Where a mighty dragon belched and roared.
 
With shouts and yells we quelled the beast,
Then sat with it a happy feast.
 
Its maw was wide and filled with nails
From hapless ships adrift without sails.
 
Around were planks it chewed and used
To burn and warm its wriggly brood.
 
For the dragon had five little dragons-to-be
All nestled snug ‘neath a hickory tree.
 
Our meal was delight while the little ones ​slept,
On whose smiles firelight danced and crept.
 
The dragon spoke of terrible times.
The past had seen most tremendous crimes.
 
There was an ogre who ruled the land and
Stripped the tithe of every man.
A great depressing battle raged,
A war of many was sorely waged.
 
When the fighting finally ceased
The last to live was the dragon’s peace.
 
Not a soul could be found breathing,
But the dragon alone, wounded and ​bleeding.
 
She told of a place where dragons mature,
Where they learn of their strength and ​highest grandeur.
 
This land was farther than the dragon could
​fly, and
Her young as she said must glide the high ​sky.
With stern entreaty and heartfelt grace,
The dragon asked us to sail to this place.
 
So agreed and sealed we made a good bond
With a wave of the dragon’s magic wand.
 
We slept ‘neath the stars outside the wild ​cave,
Set sail in the morn’ on a silver wave.
 
The wind was steady on our promising ​journey,
Due west on one tack ten days without
​turning.
 
Each morning was sunshine and plenty to ​eat,
Cocoa milk, fruit, and spicy fried meat.
On the tenth day of sailing the boat met a ​raft,
With a seagull and pilot who came aboard ​aft.
 
The gull’s name was Harry, you could pat ​him if you dared it,
And the pilot spoke laughingly while eating
​a carrot.
 
He was wide at the waist and had a great ​beard,
To make up for the hair he’d lost through
​The years.
 
He was bald and domestic except for one ​fact,
On the top of his head was a colourful map.
It showed the Clan Channel to the Bay of
​Between,
Around which lay nestled the Hills of ​Unseen.
 
“This,” said the pilot touching his crown,
“Is the land these dragons be wantin’ to ​found.”
 
So in through the Narrows and onto the
​Harbour,
We coasted together with a breezy ardour.
 
Unseen was all gold with temples majestic,
Ornaments, flowers, and statues fantastic.
 
Pagodas of poppies stood by the pier,
Where we landed in safety to welcoming ​cheers.
 
The voices of townsfolk were not what we ​heard
For Unseen was inhabited only by birds.
 
Three handsome peacocks came to our side
To fasten our boat against the ebb tide.
 
A company of egrets rolled a red carpet
While a strip-suited heron watched where
​we stepped.
 
“My name is Frederick and I am your ​guide.
“I’m obliged to stay always right by your ​side.”
“To the Everglade Council we must hasten
​at once.
“They will not meet again for several ​months.”
 
“They’ve been hoping to see these new ​dragons this session,
“Before their time’s taken with learning and ​lessons.”
 
So off through the streets to Unseen’s city ​centre,
To the Hall of Discussion we ushered and ​entered.
 
Inside sat the Council around a great table
Chatting of stories and favourite fables.
 
The leader was Duncan the carmine bee-​eater,
Flanked by his aid Brixton, the crimson-​backed tanager.
 
Medina the orange dove was debating ​finances
With a blue-throated babet named Hilary ​Frances.
 
The member-at-large was Timothy Claw
Whose plumage made plain he was a yellow
​macaw.
 
He talked in great puffs on prosaic stuff
To a yellow sunbird named Edward McTuft.
 
The Hall of Discussion had a motif in ​Russian,
With pelican heralds half asleep on silk ​cushions.
 
Duncan said, “Council, Council may I have ​your attention.
“We have some new friends I think we ​ought mention.”
 
“Come join us at once and have a short ​rest.
“Our chef’s polenta is simply the best.”
 
“After all it’s lunchtime and we’re eager to ​dine.
“We heard of your coming through the ​island grapevine.”
So lunch we did eat and much we did learn,
From what we were told and what we ​discerned.
 
We had landed on the first of a chain of ​seven islands,
Known as the Realm of the Giant Winged ​Lions.
 
Unseen was a gateway for trade and ​supplies,
Yet its bird folk secretly survielled for spies.
 
Many a trader might pass through its lanes
Not knowing the nature of the lions’ reign.
 
Among the traders were envoys elite
Who brought magic potions to the lions ​discreetly.
 
There was one lion per island and Unseen’s ​held the key
To the doors to the rest, the first we must ​see.
 
We were taken to see her after the meal was ​done.
This was not a time for silliness or fun.
 
Her name was Giselle and she would give ​the first of our teachings
About laziness and how it confounded all ​preaching.
 
Her lair was above the Bay of Between
In the caves of the cliffs of the Hills of ​Unseen.
 
Around her lay bottles and boxes of potions,
Her torches and swords gave us the notion,
 
That to cross her was grave
And we’d never be saved.
 
“I have little time to spare in this our one ​meeting.
“You must understand now that life is but ​fleeting.”
 
“And to waste time without thinking
“Leaves one to be sinking.”
 
“You must know, one cure for a lazy mind
“Is to have faith in yourself and the things ​that you find.”
 
With this the great lion shuffled its wings,
Flew out of the cave leaving us each ​jewelled rings.
 
It seemed so fast that we learned so much
In such a short time and with some luck.
 
We’d get through the day and meet the other ​six,
Because one day’s all we had in this land so ​complex.
 
We walked back to the harbour and found a ​small boat
That we rowed to the next island barely ​keeping afloat.
 
The second lion was named Oliver and he ​lived in a tree.
He talked more about living and not being ​lazy.
 
“I am to tell you a second remedy
“For a dragon who can’t stop being lazy.”
 
“It’s simply to aspire to what you wish to ​do,
“Like fly higher and higher or tie up your ​shoe.”
 
“That seems common sense to a lion like ​me,
“But then I’ve been around and still live in a ​tree.”
 
“You see, if you dream, which is a way to ​aspire,
“You think like a flyer and never do tire.”
 
So there we had it, another thought we ​reaped.
Just so as we left, Oliver fell asleep.
 
Back to the boat and off to the third isle,
It was hardly away a quarter of a mile.
 
The third lion was named John and he lived ​in a bush.
When we were noticed, with his wings he ​pushed
 
The branches and brambles to get a good ​look
At our sorry troupe, we seemed so to souk.
 
“What have you learned about laziness, you ​fleas?
“I’m one of seven and you’ve made it to ​three.”
 
We said we were sorry, just a little tired.
The heat of the sun had made us perspire.
 
“Well, I’ll give you some water and a wee ​bit of comfort,
“To teach the third way which is to make an ​effort.”
 
“Yes, laziness drags one down to one’s ​couch.
“But if a tack upon you sit, say it, say ​‘Ouch!’”
 
“If you know you must finish that awful ​plate of cheese.
“Make the effort, and you Mum will be ​pleased.”
 
So we took some water and wiped our lips,
And tripped our way back to boat by the ​slip.
 
The fourth of the lions called herself Byna.
She was slim and defined and lived in a ​vine.
 
“I have the last lesson on not being lazy.
“Which is to be pliant, I must say it more ​plainly.”
 
“What I mean by pliant is to bend with the
​wind,
“Or let factors random not make up your ​end.”
 
“For the world and your actions don’t ​always agree,
“But if you adapt, you can still make ​history.”
 
The lion then smiled and said we had ​finished
The first four lessons, not to be diminished.
 
Off to the fifth isle to receive new ​instruction
On a different topic and further discussion.
 
We made it in just enough time
To meet Tiffa, the fifth of the giant winged ​lions.
 
Her mantra was this, “You must never ​forget,
“Forgetfulness can lead to awful regret.”
 
“Why what if you had some homework to ​read,
“On trees and mice and how to fly lead?”
 
“And you forgot to read about trees and ​mice and how to fly lead,
And when the question is asked, ‘What do ​you think about trees and mice and ​how to fly lead?”’
 
You say, “I didn’t do my homework, so I ​don’t know anything about trees and ​mice and how to fly lead.”​
 
“But you know trees are green, mice are ​small!” the teacher will pop.
​To which with playful speaking you ​say, “Oh, yeah!” Full stop.
 
“That is the moment of mindfulness, always ​sure,
“Which works against forgetting, a peaceful ​cure.”
 
Well, up came a wind, splash came the rain,
Sopped, we left, there was more to ascertain.
 
Excited and loose, like Mother Goose, we ​headed to the next.
What a sight, we found Rex.
 
Rex was a gay lion, and everything about ​him was soft.
“I love to look inward, I’m an environmental ​therapist. Aloft!”
 
Up to the hay strewn tree house where he ​lived,
“Really, love can be gruesome, introspection ​is the road I give.”
 
This was beyond the pale, for beyond the ​fish smell sat fish in a pail.
“So, if one is excited or anxious, look ​inward to calm and sail.”
 
“You run too quickly for baby dragons,” he ​said.
“Yes, you should leave, sides, I’m half ​dead.”
 
Fell we did. Out of the tree and onto​the ​road.  The wind blew.
We’ve learned so much we thought, ​intention must be our accrue.
 
We lapped to our last island and found Ben.
Ben was the seventh and always in heaven.
 
“To meditate and leave the mind as it is is
​a good way.
“It’s equanimity that keeps the mind at ​peace play.”
 
“Use the phrase, ‘Too much of a good thing ​is not good.’”
Of course we understood.
 
Words surfaced, the island melted, and we ​heard the sound of saxophones and ​trumpets spilling a hurricane, then a ​tempest voice said, “You there!”
 
“Ask people what they know.  That way ​you’ll know what they’re thinking.”
 
A storm from nowhere pummelled us, then ​lightening and thunder.
Plundered by sound, our pilot flew up in a ​spray and caught us back to the ​slumber of a quiet sea.
 
The sun rose over Scotfield’s Bay, we lay ​dragonless on the Passion,
​blessed to be back home, ​
​together forever.