The Bard’s journal

THE RIDDLER'S RECKONING
(A Chronicle-in-waiting)

On Day the Second comes the voice of cloth—
that pious belly speaks a pious doubt.
The Friar asketh: Which sin breaketh oath?
The starving thief, or hoarder fat of snout?

Since Day the First, when Tuck did voice his call
within these tavern-walls of worn dark wood,
the question hangs—unanswered over all—
does righteousness wear crown, or tattered hood?

The fields grow thin. The wine runs watered down.
The Bard records: two men, one ale, one sigh.
What truths tonight beneath the darkening crown
shall Little John permit to pass him by?