By THLaird Colyne Stewart, May AS 51 (2016)
For Their Highnesses Ealdormere, Siegfried and Xristinia, and in memory of a very hot Crown Tournament in Bastille du Lac.
The shire’s sun seared hot the flesh
Of those who came to fight that day
Hadean heat burned through the mesh
Of gallery and tents so gay.
The warriors, stout fighters all,
In horrid heat contested well,
But one by one they topple fall,
Into the brittle grassy hell.
The heat—damn heat—of Vulcan’s forge,
Which caused them all to cook and steam,
And raised their stomachs in their gorge,
It stood between them and their dream.
But one, a phoenix, born of fire,
From molten heat arises new,
Alone upon that field so dire,
A-drape in jupon sodden blue.
In sun burned hand he takes the crown,
And gifts it to the woman who
Now kneeling on the earth burned brown
Inspired him to battle through.