He sat across from me,

sunlight glinting in his beard.

A show of gold in a miner’s pan.

A flash of excitement in a graveled day!

 

But Guy is no miner.

Not for gold anyway.

Perhaps for words,

words that flowed easily,

like a large river,

not as a mountain stream.

 

Words of literature.

Words from his favorite writer.

William Shakespeare.

Agincourt, once more, dear friend!

David Garlick, Victoria, February, 2001