Saturday, September 12, 2015

On your fortieth year my dear

Harper of the great Pacific
In lieu of being prolific
I offer this solitary pome
Trust it will find it’s way on home

On your fourth decade in the sun
I wish you the purest light
May it illuminate your pages
And flood you with deepest sight
May it burst through your pigments
and tango with the sounds
That flow from your piano
When you are two whiskeys down

I would wish for you a piece of land
Not too clunky or too grand
But just the right size of gift
Delivered by continental drift
To reach your seaside door,
By the time the harvest moon
Sings her golden lunar tune
So you would not ask for more.

To aid you with your travels
May I suggest a great masseur
Who could cure your spinal sorrows
On a red-oxide coated floor.

Or perhaps you need a poet
Who could throw you a little rhyme
When you are short of haiku
with gin tonic and lime

Then there is the simple matter
of a well built time machine
That could transport you in a jiffy
To a kingdom with no queens
It might suit you better
To roam in princely states
With bearded balladeers
To charm you on a date.

There are various options
For your fortieth birthday spree
It requires just selection
And your royal decree

We’ll pack it and we’ll ship it
To your Pacific door
And barring unforeseen currents
that may drag it to the ocean floor
You could certainly expect it
To arrive in perfect time
For your autumnal adventures
That must begin with rhyme.

Happy birthday Harper Leaf.

Madeleine Weathers

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