Saffron Days

: minstrels of words  

( a sapphic poem )  
 
Love of spoken verse by our Sappho’s passion,  
shared between my good friend Orpheus and I,  
would have us, as a rule, the dueling poets  
Till day turned saffron.  
 
Two young buskers head-strong: wine, women & song  
among the common folk we’d trod, to peddle  
and spread the verse of stories & morals sung,  
eyeing pretty girls.  
 
Most were glad to hear from us, as we two walked,  
down the dusty roads we’d wander, singing, like  
troubadours, through villages and fields, leaf-strewn,  
of parchment and mist.  
 
Those days of sandal-wandering were famous  
not only with the gathered souls in town, but  
farmers pushing carts & shepherds with their sheep,  
with whom we would sleep.