Rondeau (experiment)

Caution! I’m beginning to play with a 13th century French poetic form. Read with care!!—

“On The Border”


Beneath early autumn sun

Across crystal azure skies

A solitary owl flies

And tiny, frightened, vermin run,

Homeward, nightly battle done.

Under ever watchful eyes

Beneath desert morning sun 

Frightened desperate people run

From the torture and the cries

As the wounded die beneath.


From high above the “shining” shun,

Mouthing, loudly, lofty lies

As, far below, the “vermin” flies

Hiding from the haughty gun,

And gilded boot they shy beneath.