Eat, drink and be merry
on the wide hearth of the world,
though the winds flow free
down the slippery scree
and the grey wolves ring the fold.
Take, eat, be happy,
set wide a welcome door,
though the winds flow free
down the slippery scree
and the red kites hunt the moor.
Take no thought for tomorrow,
it’s enough that we have today,
for the winds flow free
down the slippery scree
and the ermine hunts his prey.
Drink in a web of friendship,
let laughter make you wise
as the wind flows free
down the slippery scree
and the fearful shadows rise.
Will the pale-horsed Rider waken?
Will the sun rise drenched in
blood?
Will the winds flow free
down the slippery scree
and sear each shivering bud?
Gather your rosebuds, softly,
offer each one to a friend;
for the winds flow free
down the slippery scree
and we have not reached the end.
Eat, drink, be merry,
sing on the edge of night;
though the winds flow free
down the slippery scree
here is a cave of light.
Fellowship, fleshed with roses,
happiness poured like wine;
as the winds flow free
down the slippery scree
this joy at least is mine.
And the haunt-eyed Rider listens,
turns on his horse and goes;
for his terrored heart
is torn apart
by the struggling birth of a rose.
(November,
1985)
