Jingle When WalkingA friend of mine has a book of calligraphy. It is a lovely little book, well bound and comfortable in a slipcase with protective papers. The leaves are of good vellum, and feel good under fingers. The book itself is a replica of a request made by a King, some time ago: "bring me calligraphy," he said. And they did. And it is, none of it, bad calligraphy. There are perks to being King.
There are others. It has been a happy accident to be introduced to the work of Marin Marais, who composed, among other things, incidental music for a King no less than Louis XIV. The recording is by Spectre De La Rose, and buried in the baroque noodlings of court music is a lovely duet for viol that aches, and aches well. It must have been something to hear, that first time.
There is a hole in the pocket of my coat, up where it joins. I sometimes lose coins to it, and they fall between the wool and the lining to make small noise down around my feet.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at pen@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.