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A Modern Minstrel
by Earl Coleman

In the Rousseau I'm the gypsy with the lion guarding me above,
my latest song beside me, just in time to take a moonlight snooze,
to play some music when I awake again. The lion, quizzical,
is demonstrating that the dialectic lies in an ambivalence, as if he should
attempt at least to understand a smaller creature's helplessness and plight.

We stand in no such wise. As humans we can't be as philosophical as he.
We've been around the block, and seen some sights would shrivel up his
mane. I'm fearless here upon the ground because I've got the lion
on my side, his might. Otherwise how would I lay my lute so carelessly
in open view where someone might just snatch it up and make away?

Such lessons are hard won. We've had our dues to pay. An open-
handedness has got our heads bashed in. That's not to say we can't make
music, sleep in peace, enjoy the star-filled sky so long as we take
our precautions, and enjoy it with a wary eye. Tattooed beneath my tunic
on the skin is what I've truly learned and where I've been.

(Published by Peregrine, 7/25/03.)