By Maxon Owens

O’ the summer bounty, rich and fine
Ripe fruits, lustful spice, laid out in line
But hark! For the Knights come knocking
With swords unsheathed, armor rocking
And their enflamed swords, dinged shields
With a boreal stomach, the most ardent hunger the season wields.
When I granted entry, and cracked the door,
Chivalrous souls, for my hope and food implored
With great love, from such a great man -
The squire of my heart, bows to kiss my hand
Whilst looking up at me, with a smile so true
Speaking of adventures afar, and a delicious boon
Not derived from greed or a common sin
But for daring need, and knightly kin.
Oh high men! If you need it chewed
Take my parsley, my dew, and the roast too!
And here is a heartfelt verse, for you to read on and on
For when fiends yearn and hope is gone
With the wind, yet your souls remain
To never hurt or die in fruitful vain.
As I watched the knights go over the hills,
O’er dale and tis’ nigh, all of my summer bounty had spill’d
In service of chivalry, in service of Right,
And when summer passes, I shall die