INTUNE: Strangled Mole

Beware of tasking one’s self with the device of hope
Lest you fall foul of it. Put not into the fore –
Your instruments of war and meddle not,
With your rake amongst ragwort and grass
To seek what beauty or peace of mind;
That which is in order of the virtues of mankind.
For you may invite convention from vipers malign
Or in your venture stir; the wolverine clad in Morgan’s robe;
Seated upon the throne of deceit, that hail’s the sexton’s
Lazy spade – to meet with you in some shadowy nook.
So, I behest thee! Fear not, the sun that lights –
This garden splendour; yet allow prudence to prevail
Over murky waters, who’s design is to drown
Your very soul and heed the lupine cry,
That entrenches consternation and awe within your heart,
Taking solace in the shelter of your own persuasion.

Neil W.