Something from Wheatstone

While at Wheastone this past week, I wrote a poem. I am not a very good poet and am usually a formally structured one when I do write. So this is quite different from what I've ever done. If there are any critiques that you would like to give, please feel free to share them. Well, time to tak the plunge

Night descends and stars shine
People wander in
Words are said and thoughts expressed
A circle of community forms

Thinking. Sharing. Sharpening.
Ideas become more and more refined
Energies feed one another
And the clock ticks

The dialectic flourishes
Thoughts are pared and expanded
But today is now tomorrow
And day is dawning

Beginning a Tale

In the time of knights and jousts and quests, there lived a young girl named Rowena. She was the daughter of Geoffrey the blacksmith and Clarissa the seamstress. Both Geoffrey and Clarissa were hard workers and raised their children to fear the Lord and obey His commands. Rowena was the youngest of eight children and was never in short supply of playmates. If none of her siblings could play, she'd find some of her friends from among the local children. At other times, she'd help her mother and older sisters with the sewing by fetching various things that were asked for. When she was allowed, Rowena would watch Geoffrey and his sons at work in the family smithy. But one of her favorite places to be, outside her own home, was at the home of a retired knight who had since become the village bard. His name was Excelsior. Daily, he would sit outside the entrance to his house with his lute upon his knee and entertained the children of the village with the tales of fairies and dragons and secret treasure. Rowena would spend hours listening to the old man's stories. She was his most dedicated listener.