These Are My JOTtings...

Eclogue: "Choices of Hart"

Wouldst thou yet climb the beams of faire sonne
in search of some wayye to look on yon Earth?
Do hopes of achieving yer mast'ry and monye
make worthy the cost of losing soul's berth?

Ye dance with yer feete on the crags of the mount
mock ye so neare of a fall to yer death.
This pride of deer days spouts such words from a fount
a-bleeding yer life of her grace and last breath.

The joys of yer days and the slumber of nights
cometh quickly on wings as a bird soars aloft,
Not of stolen deceits, nor of talons nor bites,
but of friendships so many and of hats lightly doft.

The hart of the matter in animal truth
'twould be clear to all humans, who look yet to see.
May the wisdom of greatness appear in yer youth
that a slab of one's folly for granite not be.

Arise on the mount, O ye deerest of men!
Fly from the cataracts of Pride, yet so mean!
Away to Humility, then ye shall win!
Or find that yer coffers are squandered and lean!

The strength of the hart and the following hind
are daring, intrepid, uncautious when young,
But in weakness of ancients their site lately find
with the wisdom of vision in songs, they have sung.

The choices of hart in life chances he's made
cuts a swath through the field of his future day's crop.
Will the points of his crown be of gold yet inlaid?
Or would end of his life make youth's hooves quick to stop?

The stalwart young hart hath naught yet to fear
should he list to the softest of Shepherd's low voice.
Be he animal, man or another so dear,
the knee that can bow is the greatest of choice.

by Jay O'Toole
on May 25th, 2018