One
of the duties which come with a blog is checking the statistics – how many
people are there in the world? And all of them not reading this? However, the
three German readers seems to have mysteriously become one German, one Pole and
two Ukranians. Plainly reading this blog may have unexpected side effects.
Consult your physician.
He had lost count of
his years but for all that
Was the Astrologer’s
Child still, and the stars
Were mindful of him.
They would call to him,
Even at midday, saying “Death sits beneath that leaf;
He watches from that
window; he it is that brewed
The ale the widow
offers you.”
As ever, the
Astrologer’s Child would thank them
And look beneath the
leaf at Death’s bright eye
Or climb to the window
to see
What had so caught
Death’s attention.
Whole days he would
drink the widow’s ale
In cypress shadows
behind her house
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